Magic Songs of the West Finns, Vol. 2, by John Abercromby, , at sacred-texts.com
A maid was sitting on a stone, on a rock a woman (kapo) had set herself, she is brushing her hair, is arranging her head. One of the maiden's hairs fell down, one of the woman's (kapo) hairs broke off, a wind then carried it away to a meadow without a name; from that a wasp was made, an 'evil bird' was caused to dash with a copper quiver on its back; its quiver is full of poisoned stings.
The daughter of Pain and Tuoni's son were sleeping on a ground-fast stone, were both together on a rock, when worms were being bred, when snails were being desired; the daughter became with child, she carried a heavy womb, at last her belly was reduced, then worms were bred, then snails took origin.
Thou fidgety and roundish thing, the size of a seed of flax, that looks like a seed of flax, that destroys the teeth,
keeps cutting the bones of the jaw. I know thy descent, and all thy bringing up; from the sea a black [v. iron] man rose, from the waves a hero mounted up, the height of a straightened thumb, a hero's finger was his height; a hair gets wafted by the wind, from the hair there grew a beard, on the beard was bred a worm; then the wretch came, the evil pagan moved to the jawbones much beloved, to the cherished teeth, to devour, to gnaw, to crunch, to rasp, to split the jaws, to hack the teeth.
There now is thy descent, there is thine origin complete.
A furious old wife [v. Old Väinämöinen's wife], the stout woman Luonnotar [v. sturdy old Väinämöinen], set to work to sweep the sea, to mop with a broom the waves, with a cloth of sparks upon her head, over her shoulders a cloak of foam; she swept one day, next day she swept, she swept a third day too, the refuse gathered in her broom, in her copper mop. This she was anxious to remove; she raised her besom from the waves, made the copper handle twirl high above her head. In the mop the refuse had tightly stuck, she seized it between her teeth, a painful feeling attacked her teeth, a full-grown devil (emälempo)—her jaw. Then the evil one [v. man-eater] was bred, then the biter of bone drew near, that keeps on rustling in the jaws, that hacks the teeth, that digs all over the head, that keeps on gnawing at the limbs.
The stout woman Luonnotar, the furious old wife, went to get a broom from a leafy grove, stuff for a besom from a copse; from her bosom fell a pin, a copper pin dropt
suddenly, fell rustling into the withered grass, and into the hay with a jingling noise. Then a worm was bred, hence in the cherished teeth, in the unfortunate cheek-bones originated Tuoni's grub, that eats the bone, that bites the flesh, that ruineth the teeth.
A blind daughter of Pohjola, Väinämöinen's old servant girl, was dusting his little hut, was sweeping out the floor; from the broom fell a bit of dirt, from the besom a twig snapt off on the swept floor, on the dusted boards, along the fissures of the planks. From that the devourer was born, the gnawer was bred, into the mouth it shot itself, then it leapt upon the tongue, it stumbled forwards on the teeth, to eat the blood-filled flesh, to rack with pain the blood-filled bones.
The evil mistress Syöjätär, the old mother of iron, Rakehetar, was pulverising iron grains, was hammering steel points on an iron rock in a mortar of alderwood, with a pestle of alderwood, in a room of alderwood. What she pounded, that she sifted, she gobbled up those groats of hers, bits went astray among her teeth, they settled themselves in the gums to hack the teeth, to rack the jaws.
From the sea a wee man rose, in his hand is a tiny axe, a billhook under his arm; on the path he found an oak, on the shore—a gigantic tree (rutimon raita), with the axe he struck the tree, with the level edge he dealt a blow, a chip got stuck upon the axe, a chip got stuck and tightly too;
with tooth and nail he tried to get it loose, then in his mouth the hindrance stuck, a painful feeling attacked his teeth, in his jaws a stench diffused itself; the great eater was born from that, the evil hacker of the teeth.
A fox bore off a bit of bone, a fox bore off and gnawed the bone between two rocks, along five mountain slopes; hence the worm was bred, then originated Tuoni's grub that spread itself upon the jaws, and dispersed upon the teeth.
Liipo [v. Liito] sowed flax at night, Kauko by day made it grow, from it sprang up a tender sprout, a sprout sprang up, the flax grew up; from three directions came a wind to thresh the head of flax, the wind threshed out the head of flax, scattered the seed of hemp; away the wind carries the flax to the eddy of a holy stream, there the wind rocked it to and fro, the water stretched it out in length, then from it grew a lovely pike, the water-monster then arose.
From Hiisi is the horse's origin (F. birth), from the mountain—the splendid foal's, in a room with a door of fire, in a smithy with an iron ridge; its head was made of stone, its hoofs of rock, its legs were formed from iron, its back was made of steel.
Where did the elk originate, was the son of Kari reared? There did the elk originate, was the son of Kari reared; on
the surface of a windy marsh, in a dense bird-cherry clump, in a thick grove of willow-trees; its back was made from a bent birch tree, its legs from railing stakes, its head from a root of ash, the rest of its carcass from rotten wood, its hair from horse-tail grass.
I well know ague's genesis, I remember the villain's origin. Ague was rocked by wind, was put to sleep by chilly air, was brought by wind, was by water drawn, by hard weather was conveyed, came in the whirlwind of a storm, in the sleigh-tracks of a chilly blast against us wretched sufferers, against us poor unfortunates.
A fellow rises from the sea, from the waves uplifts himself, who counts the isles of the sea, keeps watch on the water's fish; six flowers [v. cups] are in his hand, six at the tip of every flower, of train-oil all are full; they coagulated into seals. O seal, the portly boy, that roves around the sea, rough creature of the ocean-field thy father was trash, 1 thy mother was trash, thou art trash thyself. Away with thee! where I command, into the sea's black mud, inside blue clay, down a dragon's (lohi-käärme) throat.
Man is a strange phenomenon, the great creature of the human race was made from a clod of earth, was fashioned from a cake of mould; to it the Lord gave breath, the Creator formed life (for it) from his mouth.
Thou globular and corpulent black worm, thine origin is known: thy father is a blue butterfly, thy mother a blue butterfly, thy sisters are blue butterflies, thy other relation is a blue butterfly—thou art thyself a blue butterfly. When thou of thy mother first was born, I listened, I turned about, I heard a rustling in the turf, at the bottom of a dell—a buzz; rustling thou wentest into withered grass, with a jingling sound into tufts of hay.
Where was 'broad-forehead' born, was 'honey-paws' produced? There was 'broad-forehead' born, was 'honey-paws' produced, close to the moon, beside the sun, on the shoulders of Charles's Wain. From there was he let down to earth, to the honeyed woods’ interior, to a verdant thicket's edge, into a liver-coloured cleft. 1 Sinisirkku, the forest maid, rocked him, swayed him to and fro in a cradle of gold, in silver straps, under a fir with branching crown, under a bushy pine. 'Broad-forehead' then was christened, the scanty-haired one was baptized near 'fiery' rapids, at the eddy of a fearful (F. holy) stream. Who undertook to christen him? The king of Himmerkki himself, he undertook to christen him, to baptize the scanty-haired; the Virgin Mary, mother dear, both acted as his godmother and to the christening carried him. What was the name they gave? 'Hulking fellow,' 'little haystack,' 'lovely shaggy coat of hair,' 'honey-paws,' 'the corpulent.'
My dear 'broad-forehead,' my beloved, my lovely little 'honey-paws,' full well I know thine origin, where thou, 'broad-forehead,' wast born, where obtained, 'blue stumpy tail,' where formed, 'claw-footed one'; yonder was 'broad-forehead' born, in the sky aloft, on the horns of the moon, on the head of the sun, on the Seven stars’ back, beside the maidens of the air, near Nature's daughters. Fire shot in flashes from the sky, on a wheel the world turned round, while broad-forehead was being formed, the 'lover of honey' was being shaped. From there was he let down to earth, to a honeyed thicket's edge, to be nursed by Hongatar, to be rocked by Tuometar at the root of a stunted fir, under an aspen's branching head, on the edge of the 'forest-fort,' in the home of the 'golden' wilderness. Broad-forehead then was christened, the dark grey-haired one was baptized on a honeyed knoll, at the mouth of Sedge-River Sound, in the arms of Pohja's daughter. There he swore his oath on the mother of Pohja's knee, before the well-known God, under the beard of the Blessed One, to do the innocent no harm, no injury to a guiltless man, to walk in summer properly, to trudge along beseemingly, to live a life of joyousness on the back of a swamp, on rising knolls, at the furthest end of rutting heaths, shoeless to rove in summer-time, in autumn stockingless, in the worse seasons to abide, to pass winter's cold in laziness inside a room of oak, at the edge of fir-branch fort,' at the root of a handsome fir, in a nook of junipers.
'Shaggy!' I call to mind thy birth, thy growth, thou horror of the land [v. evil soot], there wast thou born, thou
cunning one, there raised, thou horror of the land, 'in furthest limits of the north, in Lapland's wide extending woods, on the slopes of Alder Hill, on the shoulder of Pinebranch Hill; thy father is Putkinen, 1 thy mother is Putkitar, the rest of thy kin are Putkinens, thou art thyself a Putkinen. Thou wast brought forth on moss, wast reared in a heather clump, in a dense willow copse, in a thick bird-cherry grove on the north side of a brook [v. on the lee-side of a stone], on the south side of a hill [v. on the north side of a hill]; troth, I was there myself as the chief juryman while the 'reindeer cow' was being made, while the 'cow' was being built. Pohja's old open-handed mother from a grassy knoll knocked out a head, from a great fir slashed off a back, teeth from a water-compassed stone, eyes from a stone of quartz, ears from the stuffing of a shoe; then to the christening she rattled off, and carried him off to be baptized.
The devil (Perkele) made his nest, the evil one arranged his lair in the house of a landed gentleman, before the dwelling of a judge, on a joist of the sheriff's roof, on the floor of a juryman, in a bishop's long sleeves, the shirt-collar of a priest; then his children he brought forth, he bred his progeny, to be for the rich a source of strife [v. to enrich the lords], to be courts of law for the poor [v. to cause ruin to the poor].
Of course I know the cat's origin, the incubation of 'grey beard'; on a stone was obtained the cat with the nose of a girl, with the head of a hare, with a tail from Hiisi's plait of hair, with the claws of a viper snake, with feet of cloud-berries, from a wolf the rest of its body comes.
A stone is Kimmo Kammo's [v. Kimma Kamma's (v. Kääjä's)] son, a rolling stone is Mammo's son [v. is Kimma's mother's liver], is an egg of the earth, a clod of the field, the offspring of Kimmahatar [v. Huorahatar], the production of Vuolahatar, the heart's core of Syöjätär, a slice of the liver of Mammotar, is the growth of Aijötär, the small spleen of Joukahainen.
Who knew a stone to be a stone when it was like a barley-corn, rose from the earth like a strawberry, from the side of a tree like a bilberry, or dangled in a fleecy cloud, in the clouds concealed itself, came to earth from the sky, fell like a scarlet ball of thread, came wobbling like an oaten ball, came rolling like a wheaten lump, through cloudy columns, through rainbows red? The witless call it a stone, term it an egg of the earth. 1
Cancer was born at Cottage Creek at the river Jordan's mouth. Harlots were rinsing their linen caps, at the river
[paragraph continues] Jordan's mouth, then afterwards was cancer bred, then the biter of bone appeared, the eater of flesh, the biter of bone that sucks the blood quite raw without being cooked in a pot, without being warmed in a copper one. The 'dog' set off to run, the 'worm' began to crawl, went off to corrupt the bone, to macerate the flesh, to make it suppurate, in whitlows to make it swell.
Whelp's genesis is from the wind, dog's origin from chilly wind [v. a pup's from the shining of the sun]; the old woman Louhiatar [v. the blind one of Untamola (v. Ulappala)], the harlot mistress of Pohjola [v. the wholly blind of Väainölä] 1 slept with her back against the wind, with her side to the north-west; the wind made her with child, a chilly wind made hard her womb.
Why was her belly hard? In her womb she bore a dog, under her spleen—a pup, in her liver—a beast of the earth, of one month old, of two months old; she at the end of three months’ time began to throw her litter forth, to lighten her wame; from her womb she threw a dog, from under her spleen—a whelp.
Who carried the swaddling-clothes, the whelp's coarse swaddling bandages? The furious firwood-crone (Haivonakka) carried the swaddling-clothes, in her own linen rocked and dandled in her lap the pup, she taught her son to trot about, 'the woolly tail' to mark the way. The best maiden of Pohjola was standing near the wall, was under the window sill, engaged in melting a luscious stuff; it hardened on her
finger points and with it she smeared its teeth; a useful dog was the result, a neat white-collared dog obtained, that does not snap at all, that doesn't bite the very least.
Of course I know the dog's genesis, I remember the puppy's origin: he was made on a heap of dust, on a meadow was prepared, by nine fathers was produced, by a single mother brought to birth. The Earth's mistress, Manuhatar, knocked out a head from a grassy knoll, procured its legs from stakes, its ears from water-lily leaves, from the east wind she struck out gums, out of wind she formed its nose.
A girl was sitting in a dell, a 'soft petticoat'—in a tuft of grass, she was shedding a flood of tears; a tear came rolling, trickling down from her ruddy cheek to her feet, to the ground, more round than the egg of a hazel grouse, more heavy than a thrush's egg. Therefrom grew a lovely birch, a verdant sapling raised itself, the sprout by the earth (manner) was made to grow, was rocked by Tuuletar; its head attempted to reach the sky, its boughs spread outwards in the air.
Well I know the raven's origin, I remember the 'eater’s' origin, from what the black bird was obtained, how the raven was bred: the scoundrelly raven, Lempo's bird, the most disgusting bird of air was born on a charcoal hill, was
reared on a coaly heath, was gathered from burning brands, was bred from charcoal sticks, of potsherds its head was made, its breastbone from Lempo's spinning-wheel, its tail from Lempo's sail, its shanks from crooked sticks, its belly from a wretch's sack, its guts from Lempo's needle-case, from an air-ring its rump, from a worn-out kettle its crop, its neck from Hiisi's weaving-stool, its beak from a sorcerer's arrow-tip, its tongue from Kirki's axe, its eyes from a mussel pearl [F. stone].
Ho! raven, thou ill-omened bird, of three Lempos thou art the bird, thy hovel is on the ground, thy home is on a birch; full well I know thine origin with all thy bringing-up: thou wast gathered from kitchen soot, heaped up from burning sticks, wast bred from coals, composed of all that is bad, thy body of Hiisi's leather glove, thy legs of Hiisi's spinning-staffs, thy guts of Hiisi's belt appendages, from an air weather-vane thy feet, thy claws from tarry sticks, thy wings from Lempo's fans, thy down was sweated out of coals, thine ears from the leaves of birch, one eye is made of Hiisi's seed, the other of an iron bean, thy beak from a sorcerer's axe, thy tongue from Keito's spear.
Strange swelling, Lempo's lump! I know thine origin, from what, excrescence, thou wast born, wast bred, thou horror of the land, wast spun, thou 'Lempo's whorl,' hast swelled up, 'Lempo's ball,' on the place where breath is breathed, on the narrow muscles of the neck: thine origin
is from the mist (sumu), thy mother is from the mist, thy father is from the mist, from it is thy progenitor, there thy five brothers are, the six daughters of thy godfather, thine uncle's seven bairns. Pray, remove thyself away to meadows without a name, to those unknown by name.
Night's daughter, the maid of dusk, that keeps the long evening watch, was spinning a stony thread, was twisting a gravelly one, on a distaff of stone, on a copper spinning-staff. The stony thread snapt, in her fingers—the gravelly one, from the distaff of stone, from the copper spinning-staff. From the broken ends was obtained an evil brood, from them 'striped back' was born, the 'worm of Manala' was bred.
Sturdy old Väinämöinen was splitting hills, o’erturning rocks, with iron gloves on, protected by copper mitts; he seized the fiery-pointed sword, he caused his sword to shake in the rift of an iron hill, in the space between two rocks, in the hole between five boulder stones. 1 His golden ring fell rattling down into the rift of the iron hill, into the space between two rocks, the hole between five boulder stones, then from it a 'crafty one' 2 was born, a 'striped back' was produced.
I know, thou crafty one, 1 thine origin, thy breed—thou horror of the land, why thou, O snake, in the grass wast born, wast formed on the earth by spells, thou worm': thou crafty one, wast born, wast bred, thou horror of the land, on a rugged [v. smooth] rock, on low-lying earth [v. in a gloomy forest nook].
Hiisi was running along the ground, Hiisi ran, the earth perspired, he ran o’er swamps, ran o’er dry land, o’er Lapland's ample wooded tracts, sweat trickled from his hair, from his beard a lather poured. The dread one as he ran succumbed, got wearied as he sped along, the strong one sank upon a stone, fell to the ground upon a rock, on a hill-top swooned away, fell asleep on a stone in a mead. He slept a while upon the hill, for long on the top of the rock, as he slept he heavily snored, he snorted as he lay asleep, from the 'toad's' mouth saliva poured, from the brute's jaw a slimy froth, from the huge nose a foam, from Lempo's stumpy nose a clot on the fresh quartz [F. thunder-stone], on the rugged rock. Syöjätär passed by, ate up the slaver on the rock, the slaver burnt her in the throat, caused a pricking in her teeth, from her mouth she spat it on the lake, let drop the slaver on the waves. Wind rocked it to and fro, the swell of the sea kept swaying it on the clear and open sea, on the hollow waves: the water stretched it out in length, air twisted it into a 'spinning-staff,' a wind then wafted it ashore, the water drew it to a cape, a current flung it on a rock, into a high cliff's cave; wind blew it hard, a chill
wind dried it up, sun baked it into a spiral form in the cliff's cave upon the beach, at the side of a speckled stone, in the bosom of an evil stone. Hiisi gave life to it, by spells the devil (Piru) gave it eyes, the jawbones Lempo formed, the wretch brought together the teeth. Hence originated 'Tuoni's grub,' the grub of Tuoni,' worm of the earth,' hence birth was given to the snake, a name was given to the bane.
Thou evil heathen, woe on thee! thine origin is known.
A Juutas started off to run, a weak-legged man to totter off, the wretch got dizzy with anxiety as he had done an evil deed. He ran one day, he ran for two, he ran a third day too, from the east the villain came, from the dawning-place—'the toad.' When he a long way had come, after the third day's run, the Juutas as he ran succumbed, got wearied as he tottered on, fell down upon a rock [v. on Jesus’ stone of joy 1], flopped down on a heap of stones [v. on the Creator's rock of sports 1], sank down on a mountain slope, drooped on weathered stone [v. on the south side of a hill]; he snorted as he slept, he violently writhed. Jesus was pursuing his way with his three lads, with his two talkative companions; from the path the Juutas sprang, from the rock—'the worn-out shoe,' the devil (Piru) began to hurry off, made sudden efforts for a bolt; slaver from the 'toad's' mouth ran, slime—from the nostrils of the scamp, sun baked it hard, the devil (Piru) stretched it out in length. Saint Peter sees on the rock the slaver of the 'toad,' on the weathered stone the wretch's slime; he
takes a look, he turns about to see what the clod on the rock might be, and of it he began talk:
'What would become of this, and into what would it shape itself if thou, O Lord, created life, if God by spells should give it eyes?'
Thus the great Creator said, spoke the spotless God: 'From evil would evil come, a toad from the seed of a toad, from a fatherless thing—a loathsome thing, from a motherless thing—a useless thing.'
Saint Peter says, he happens a second time to say: 'Create life, Lord, for it, by spells, God, give it eyes, let it move through the withered grass, rustle through tufts of grass, insert itself ’mong roots of trees, and look at the heather stalks.' Immediately the Lord gave life, by spells did God give eyes to the vomit of the evil man, to the slaver of the hideous toad. Then from that the cunning one was born, the evil 'pod' increased, a snake began to hiss, a swarthy worm to writhe, to move on its belly on the ground, on its stomach to crawl about.
Black worm that liveth underground, maggot of the hue of death (Tuoni)! I know thine origin with all thy bringing up: thy mother is Syöjätär, thy parent a water-sprite (vetehinen). Syöjätär on a lake was rowing, the 'fiery throat' was bobbing in a copper boat with scarlet sail; Syöjätär on the water spat, 1 let drop a lump upon the waves. Wind rocked it to and fro, a current of water swayed and rocked it about six years, seven summers upon the clear and open sea, on the illimitable waves. The water drew it out in
length, sun baked it soft, the water's surge directed it, the billows drifted it ashore, the sea's breakers dashed it up ’gainst a thick tree's side. Three daughters of Nature walked on the shore of the raging sea, at the edge of the rolling swell, saw the spittle on the shore, and spake these words:
'What would become of this if the Creator created life, put eyes in its head by spells?'
Hiisi happened to overhear, the villain to observe, began himself to create, Hiisi gave life to it, to the spittle of Syöjätär, to the slaver of the hideous toad; then into a snake it turned, it transformed to a dusky worm.
The daughter of Pain, the girl of Death on a meadow fell asleep, threw herself down upon a slope, ’gainst the side of a speckled stone; there came a mighty blast of wind, a bitter tempest from the east, and made the girl with child, quickened her into pregnancy. Then was her offspring born, an evil brood was bred, a snake began to hiss, a 'red ant' to creep, a 'worm of the earth' to crawl, to stick a small needle into a human being's skin, or into a creature's (kave) hairy coat.
A tree was growing on holy ground, on the clean ground—a reed, the reed grew up against the tree, the sedge—supported by the moss; a fiend (Piru) blew down the reed, made a clatter in the 'ring,' then a 'worm' appeared, roundish and somewhat long, into a 'distaff' then it turned, into a snake it changed, into a crawler on the ground, into a wriggler on the path.
Thou dusky worm the hissing snake, a maggot of the hue of death, full well I know thine origin, know all thy bringing up, of what thou, useless wretch, wast formed, from what wast born, thou cunning one. 1 Tuoni's iron-toothed old wife, the crooked-fingered, the crumple jawed, was spinning on a summer's day, at midnight on an autumn night, blood from the distaff spirted out, from the copper spinning-staff. From that thou, useless wretch, wast formed, from that wast born, thou cunning one. 1
Evil spirits (kehno) formed a snake, a viper the wretches span; the snake was formed, the angry viper was fashioned out in a single summer night, in an autumnal evening hour.
Of what was made the bad one's head? Of a bad bean the head was made. Of what the malignant creature's brains? of a mighty torrent's foam. Of what are the blackguard's eyes?—of the seeds of Lempo's flax. Of what the ears on the head of the toad?—of the leaves of Lempo's birch. Of what was the snout made up?—of a splinter off Tuoni's pick. From what was the mouth prepared?—from the clasp of Syöjätär. Whence was the tongue obtained?—from the tip of Keito's spear. Whence were the teeth procured?—from the needles of Hiisi's [v. Manala's] girl. Of what were the wretch's gums?—of the gums of Kalma's girl. Of what was the body made?—of an evil maiden's plait of hair. Of what was the back composed?—of Hiisi's pole for raking coals. Of what the evil creature's tail?—of the hair-plait of Hiisi's girl. From
what were knotted up the guts?—from the appendages of Hiisi's belt. Whence has the vagabond its life?—from Hiisi's hearth of coals. Whence the bane's disposition?—from a fiery rapid's froth. From what was thrown the heart?—from the heart's core of Syöjätär. Whence was the poisoned matter flung?—from an angry torrent's foam. 1
Much land was burnt up formerly, much land, much swamp, in a summer bad for fires, a luckless conflagration year. A spot remained unburnt on the greatest reach of swamp, on a wild mountain crest, in the interval between two stumps, under a triple-rooted birch. They dug up the root of the stump, there a seed of flax was found in the storage place of Tuoni's grub, in the 'earth-worm's' place of custody. They burnt an old boat near fiery falls, at a fiery rapid's turning-point; a pile of ash, a heap of dry ash was the result of burning the wooden craft, of setting the boat on fire. Then they sowed flax in it, they sowed, they ploughed on a single summer night, then from it arose a sprout, endlessly high the flax grew up on a single summer night.
The sisters Sotkotar, smart women, sisters-in-law, found Tuoni's grub, the grub of Tuoni, the earth-worm between two stumps, beneath a triple-rooted birch. They burnt-up
[paragraph continues] Tuoni's grub, they roasted the worm of earth, they scorched the hideous thing, they baked it to an ash before the gate of Pohjola, on Lapland's chip-strewn plain; a little ash, a small quantity of fineish ash was the result; where could they put the ash? They carried the ash away to a clay-bottomed field, to a solid mountain slope; they sowed the flax in it, in the ash of Tuoni's grub, in the earth-worm's ash, a young shoot sprang from it, endlessly high the flax shot up, the flax grew up beyond all hope on a single summer night, in the space between two days.
Once on a time a black jade died, a white horse succumbed on a meadow without a name, on an unknown piece of ground, the meadow was singed by the bones, an old rake was burnt, an old woman was scorched. A little ash was the result, a small quantity was obtained and in it they sowed the flax; Liiko [v. Liito] sowed flax by night, and Kauko made it grow by day.
A lass was sitting on a cloud, a woman (kapo) on a rainbow's edge, the girl was combing her head, was brushing her hair with a copper comb, with a silver brush; a hair of the brush broke off, a tooth of the comb snapt off on the clear and open sea, on the illimitable waves. Wind rocked it to and fro, a current of water jolted it ashore into a stony hole, against a thick stone's side. Into a 'distaff' then it turned, into a snake it changed itself,
stretched itself out towards a cattle-shed, took its departure to the byre, to the litter of the shed, under the scaly husks of hay. Then it rustled among the bins, like a lizard it darted on, under the mangers it placed itself, under the milk' of a barren cow; it lived at old women's feet, was always at the women's heels, it crawled to the bowls of milk, crept lightly to the butter-tubs.
An old woman near a Sound was combing her head with a silver brush, with a copper comb; a bristle of the brush broke off, a tooth of the comb crashed down on the wide bay, on the clear and open sea, to be rocked by the wind, to be drifted by the waves. Wind rocked it to and fro, a billow drifted it ashore, from it the autumn worm was born, the winter snake acquired its ways, in the cow-house it crawls about and under corners glides.
Kuutar bewailed her gold, her silver—Päivätär, a tear trickled from her eyes, a water-drop rolled down on her lovely face, from her lovely face to her swelling breast, from there it rolled into a dell; from it a lovely oak sprang up, a verdant shoot uprose. From the sea a wee man emerged, from the billows raised himself, scarcely as tall as a quarter ell, or the height of a woman's span, in his hand was a tiny axe with an ornamented haft; he, indeed, could fell the oak, cut down the splendid tree. A chip of it that flew away, disappeared in the sea, the water worked it into foam, the billows drifted it ashore. A furious old crone [v. the harlot mistress of Pohjola], was bucking
clothes, was dabbling at her linen rags, she picked it up and poked it into her long-thonged pouch, in the pouch she carried it home, to the yard—in the long-thonged pouch, to make into snails, to fashion into grubs. From her pouch she upset the scum, she flung it near a cattle-house among the litter of the shed, she hid it in the farmyard dust, with the farm sweepings covered it; from that the family was bred, the wee white snake was reared that mutters in the byre, that mumbles in the muck, that crawls to a bowl of milk, curls round the handle of a pail.
A wolf was running along the ice, a pike was swimming below the ice; from the mouth of the wolf the slaver dropped on the bones of the dark-grey pike; wind wafted it to land, a current of water jolted it, a billow drifted it ashore, into a stony hole as scum. Ahimo's maiden, Annikki—ever engaged at bucking clothes—into her wallet gathered it, carried it off to the cow-house stall. Then from it a birth took place, thence an evil thing came forth, a tiny white wriggling snow-coloured snake.
The harlot mistress of Pohjola was combing her head, was brushing her hair; from her head fell a tress of hair on the clear and open sea, on the wide and open main, wind wafted it to land, a tempest bore it to a rock. Hiisi's tiny servant-girl, a woman of complexion fair, looked at it, turned it round, and with these words, she spake—
'The harlot mistress of Pohjola has thrown it from her lap, has flung away her wool, on the sea has torn off her hair which a wind has drifted to the land, a tempest carried
to a rock; now, what might be made of it and what be fashioned out of the shameful woman's hair, the parish harlot's tress of hair?'
On the threshold sat a wretch, in the middle of the floor—a sneak, a lout at the back made a noise, they sat with their breasts to the east, they remained with their heads to the south. The wretch on the threshold said, the sneak in the middle of the floor, the lubber himself at the back—'From these might grubs come forth, "earth-worms" might generate.'
The girls span snakes, reeled 'earth-worms' up, the whorl rotated steadily, the spindle whirled round rapidly while the 'earth-worms' were being chased, while the snakes were being spun. That was the stall- [v. winter-] grub's origin, the first appearance of the evil brood, in a pigsty it was bred, in a sheep-pen it was reared, in autumn on a heap of dust, in winter in a trampled yard. And this was its first deed which it attempted hurriedly, it bit Christ's horse; it killed the Almighty's colt, through the bony floor of the stall, through the copper-bottomed crib.
Himself old Väinämöinen, the old son of Kaleva, when formerly he went to war, sharpened his spears and his arrows plumed near women in a cattle-shed. His spear got sharpened to a point, his arrows were plumed, he made his spear vibrate in a clay-bottomed field; the spear broke in two, the 'borer' fell upon the field, the tin nail dropt, the copper ring slipt off, plumped down into the muck, among the litter of the shed. From that the cunning one was born, from that the nimble bird was bred, the best wild creature grew, the gliding and snow-coloured one.
A rash (maahinen) is from the earth by birth, a red skin-spot is from the yard, from water's anger or from earth's, from the secret rancour of a frog; from this the cunning one was born, the land's deceitful one was bred, although I cannot tell the least how it has come here now, has come out on a human skin, on the body of a woman's (kapo) son, to burn like fire, to scorch like flame (panu), like a snail or like a worm, or like another kind of rash (maahinen). The legs of a worm are short, an earth-elf's are shorter still.
If thou hast risen from the earth, then I conjure thee into earth; if, weakling, thou from water cam’st, then into the water, weakling, roll; if thou hast issued from the fire, into the fire plunge thyself; in departing take thy virulence, thy mischief carry away.
A water-Hiisi rowed along, a young creature (kapo) kept bending back and fore in a copper boat with oars of tin; he reached the land like a strawberry, fell down like a lump of wheaten dough; hence came the earth-elf race, then thou, deceitful wretch, wast born; but now I conjure thee away, thy place is not here, thy place, earth-elf, is in the earth, thou water-Lempo—in the lake.
I know well the sorcerer's birth, the fortune-teller's (arpoja) origin: the sorcerer was born, the fortune-tellers took their rise behind the limit of the north, in the Lapp's
flat open land; there the sorcerer was born, the fortuneteller there was bred on a bed of fir-boughs, on a pillow of stone.
On a heath a tall fir grew, on the summit of the Hill of Pain, a sorcerer formed shafts from it, an 'archer'—evil instruments: he made a single-feathered shaft from the lowest boughs, he made a double-feathered shaft of boughs from the middle of the tree, he made a triply-feathered shaft from the highest boughs; the sorcerer his arrows shot, launched angrily his pointed shafts just anywhere, where’er he could, for nothing does a sorcerer care whether they enter a human skin or the body (F. hair) of an animal (kave).
The island maiden, Annikki, went to the war of Istero; a plug of tin fell down, a silver terminal slipt off into the space between two rocks; a sorcerer seized it in his hands, before it had time to reach the ground, before beginning to touch the earth, he took it to a forge of smiths, into a tool a smith fashioned it, forged the arrows of a sorcerer, an 'archer's' evil instruments. The sorcerer shot his arrows forth, shot an arrow at the sky, the sky was like to split in two, etc. (See § 210 a.)
The origin of ale is known, the beginning of drink is guessed: from barley is the origin of ale, of the noble
drink—from hops, yet without water it's not produced, nor without a violent fire. Hops, son of Remunen, was poked into the ground, ploughed into the ground like a little snake, was like an ant thrown down at the side of the well of Kaleva, on the headland of Osmo's field. A young shoot sprang from it, a green tendril uprose, climbed into a little tree, and mounted towards its spreading top. An old man Osmo's [v. Luck's] barley sowed at the end of Osmo's new field, splendidly the barley grew, it sprouted up quite perfectly at the end of Osmo's new field, in the clearing of Kaleva's son. Osmotar, brewer (F. smith) of ale, the woman (kapo) that brews small beer, took some barleycorns, six barleycorns, seven clusters of hops, of water eight ladlesful, on the fire she put the pot, she caused the brew to boil. She boiled the barley ale a quick-fleeting summer's day, she managed to boil the ale, but could not get it to ferment. She thinks, she reflects what she should add to it to make the ale ferment, to make the small beer work. She saw wild mustard in the ground, plucked the wild mustard from the ground, she rubbed it with both her palms, she grated it with both her hands ’gainst both her thighs, rubbed out a martin with golden breast. When she had got it she exclaimed—
'My little martin, my wee pet (F. bird), go whither I command, to the forest's gloomy wilds where mares are wont to fight, where stallions battle savagely, into thy hands let flow their froth, collect their lather in thy hands as ferment for the ale, as yeast to make the small beer work.'
The obedient martin when advised both ran and went with speed, soon a long distance he had run to a forest's gloomy wilds, where mares are wont to fight, where stallions
battle savagely. Froth dript from the mouth of a mare, the lather—from a stallion's nose, he brought it to the maiden's (kapo) hand, to the shoulder of Osmotar. The maiden (kapo) dropt it in her beer, Osmotar—in her ale; the ale became depraved, made the men short of wits, half-witted ones to brawl, the fools to play the fool, caused the children to cry, the other folk to grieve.
The lovely maiden Kalevatar, the beautiful-fingered girl, in her movements brisk, ever light of foot, was skipping along on a seam of the floor, in the floor's centre was dancing about, on the floor she saw a leaf, from the floor she picked up the leaf. She looked at it, she turned it round, 'now what would become of this in a lovely woman's (kapo) hands, in the fingers of a kindly maid?' She placed it in a woman's (kapo) hands, in the fingers of a kindly maid; this the woman (kapo) rubbed with both her palms, with both her hands on both her thighs; then a bee was born. The bee, the nimble bird, both flew away and went with speed, soon a long distance he had flown, had quickly reduced the interval, to an island in the open main, to a skerry in the sea, to a honey-dripping sward, to the edge of a honeyed field. A short interval elapsed, a very little time slipt by, already he comes buzzing back, arrives in a mighty fuss, brought virgin honey on his wing, fetched honey in his cloak, and placed it in the woman's (kapo) hands, in the fingers of the kindly maid, Osmotar thrust it in her ale, the woman (kapo)—in her beer. Then the new drink began to rise, the ruddy ale began to work in the new wooden vat, in the two-handled birchen tub; the ale was ready for use, the juice—for men drink.
Hops shouted from a tree, water whispered from a stream, and barley from a ploughed field's edge—'When shall we together get, when shall we unite, when one of us with the other ones, at Allhallows (kekri) or at Yule, or not till Eastertide? it's tedious living alone, it's pleasanter—in twos and threes.'
Pohja's maiden, the kindly girl [v. Osmotar, brewer of ale], considers and reflects: 'What would ensue from it, if I brought together these, united them, caused one to join the other ones.'
From a tree a redstart sang—'A noble drink would be obtained from them, good ale would be got by a maker of skill, by one that rightly understands.'
Pohja's maiden, the kindly girl, plucked a cluster of hops, took some barley-corns, and water from a river's swirl, she united them, mixed one with the other ones, and attempted to make a brew in a new wooden vat, in a two-handled birchen tub. A whole month they heated stones, they burnt a whole forest of trees, a whole summer was water boiled, a whole winter the ale was brewed; a redstart chopped the wood, a wagtail [v. titmouse] the water fetched, by a bee was the honey brought to make the new drink ferment. Then the new drink rose in the two-handled birchen tub, foamed up to a level with the lugs, bubbled up above the rim, was inclined to sputter to the ground, to tumble on the floor. By that they knew the 'violent one,' they knew, they judged, they remembered at the proper time to pour ale on the earth for earth's benefit, to pour it before it grew great, before it had made itself great.
Pohja's maiden, the kindly girl, herself gave utterance to words—'How unlucky I am; alas! my thoughtless deeds,
for I have brewed a bad kind of ale, I've prepared a disorderly beer, it has swelled up in the tub, rolled in waves upon the floor.' From a tree a redstart sang, a thrush, from the edge of the eaves—'It is not of bad kind, it's a drink of good kind to be emptied into tuns, into cellars to be brought, in barrels of oak, in butts with copper hoops.'
Small beer spoke cleverly, himself took up the word and said—'It's bad to live in a half-tun, behind a copper tap; if thou provide not singing men, invite not merry ones, I'll spirt out foaming from the tun, from the half-tun I'll run away; I'll kick the half-tun in two, with blows I'll bang the bottom out, I'll go to another farm, to the neighbour o’er the fence, where people drink with jollity, lift up their voices in merriment.' Such was the origin of ale, the beginning and the origin; what did it get its good name from, from what its widely-spread esteem? From the stove a cat called out, from the end of the bench a puss exclaimed—'If this is a good kind of drink, let its name be ale.' 1 From that ale got its name, and its widely-spread esteem, as it was a good kind of drink, a good drink for the temperate, gave to women laughing mouths, to men—a cheery mind, gladdened the temperate, caused the boisterous to reel [v. fight].
Sharp Frost of evil race, a son of evil habits too, shall I now tell thine origin, shall I announce thy character? I
know thy race's origin, I know all thy bringing up. Sharp Frost was born among willow trees, Hard Weather—in a clump of birch, of an ever-devastating sire, of a mother good for nought, beside a cold heap of stones in the hollow of an icy lump. Who to Sharp Frost gave suck, who nourished Hard Weather up, as his mother had no milk, his dear mother had no paps? To Sharp Frost a snake gave suck, to Hard Weather gave nourishment, a snake gave food, a viper gave suck, a worm treated him to milk from an udder moistureless, from pointless teats; a north wind rocked him to and fro, chill weather put him to sleep near evil willow-bordered brooks, on unthawed swamps. Hence he grew hard and rough, grew exceeding proud, became an evil-mannered boy, acquired a destructive character. There was no name as yet for the lubberly boy; they christened afterwards the child; for baptism they carried him to a bubbling spring, to the centre of a golden cliff, a name was given to the wretch, was bestowed upon the knave, he was called Sharp Frost, the 'sweller of ears,' 'the hurter of nails,' 'the demander of toes.'
Pohja's swarthy old wife, Raani, mother of sharp Frost, sat down with her chest to the east, lay down with her back to the wind, she looked about, turned round, she looked due north and saw how the moon was mounting the arch, how the sun climbed the vault of the sky; the wind made her big with young, the dawn of day made her with child. What did she carry in the womb? She carried three male bairns. She gave birth to her sons, of her children she was confined in an outhouse of Pohjola, in a hut of Pimentola. She invited the Maker to baptize, God
to give names to them; as the Creator never came, she christened her brutes herself; one she called Tuuletar, the second, Viimatar, the last malignant boy she called Sharp Frost (Pakkanen) who asks for nails, who begs for feet.
The Hiisi-folk (Hiitola) held a wedding-feast, the evil crew—a drinking-bout; for the wedding they killed a horse, for their feast—a long-maned one, they sprinkled the blood at the back of the forge of Hiitola; to the sky a fume rose up, a vapour ascended in the air, then into clouds it passed away, into Sharp Frost it formed itself.
The filly [v. Tapio's daughter], Lumikki, to Sharp Frost gave sue.. Prom her swollen udder, from her projecting dugs; Sharp Frost, the evil brat, sucked till her shoulders split, till her udders were moistureless, till her dugs had lost their points. The boy got suckled, got christened, got baptized in a silver stream, in a golden spring [v. in the Jordan river]; the name of Kuljus [v. Kuhjus] was given him, Sharp Frost was named the Kuljus [v. Kuhjus] boy, Kuljus [v. Kuhjus] is Sharp Frost himself, his other relations are Kuljuses [v. Kuhjuses].
Him the Creator took to heaven, but Kuljus thought—'It's oppressive living in the warmth, to live in the heat is a great distress.' The Maker flung him into a spring, Kuljus in the spring abode, sprawled on his back all summer-time. The Maker from the sky exclaimed—'Now rise, young lad, and away with thee to flatten a trampled plain,' Kuljus from the spring came forth, near fences he began to dwell, near gates to whirl himself about, he bit all the leaves off the trees, off the grass all the husky scales, from the men all the blood.
A lovely oak grew formerly, an incomparable shoot shot up, grew extremely high, sought to touch with its head the sky, it impeded the course of the clouds, the movement of the fleecy clouds, it darkened half the sun, it concealed a third of the earth. Young men took counsel, men of middle age reflected how they could live without the moon, exist without the sun in those wretched border lands, in the miserable northern lands. They needed a man to fell, to lay low the evil oak; they searched but none was found, they sought but discovered none; among this people there was none, in our country not a man of the full-grown men in the human throng, to lay low the evil oak, to fell the tall straight tree.
From the sea a swarthy man rose up, from the surge—a full-grown man, neither great nor small, a full-grown man of medium size, as tall as a straightened thumb, three fingers high [v. the height of an ox's hoof], on his shoulder an ornamented axe with an ornamented haft, on his head a tall hat of stone, on his feet were stony shoes; he wanted to fell the oak, to shatter the gigantic tree (rutimo raita). He advanced with tripping gait, approached with deliberate stride, advanced to the root of the tree, to the place for breaking the huge oak down; with his axe he struck the tree, with the level edge he dealt a blow, struck once, struck a second time, struck a third time too; fire spirted from the axe, from the oak a flame (panu) escaped. Chips from the tree whirled down, fragments came wobbling down on a meadow without a name, on a country without a knoll; other chips showered down, very widely dispersed themselves on the clear and open sea, on
the wide and open main. At the third stroke he had already cut through the oak, had broken the gigantic tree, had overturned the thriving tree, had dashed the thick end towards the east, towards the west had flung the branching head across the river of Pohjola, as an eternal bridge for a traveller to pass across to gloomy Pohjola. A chip that had wobbled down, had been cast on the waters of the sea, on the clear and open sea, on the illimitable waves, did a wind rock to and fro, the restless sea caused it to move, a billow wafted it ashore, it the sea's breakers steered to a nameless bay, to one unknown by name, where the Hiisi-folk (Hiitola) reside, the bad people hold their sales. Hiisi's iron-toothed dog that ever runs along the shore, chanced to be running on the beach, to be making the gravel rattle; in the waves he spied the chip, from the waves snapped out the chip and carried it to a woman's (kapo) hands, to the finger-tips of Hiisi's girl. The woman (kapo) looked at it, she looked, she turned it round, spoke words and thus exclaimed
'Something might come of this if ’twere in the smithy of a smith in the hands of a well-skilled man; arrows might a sorcerer get, an archer—lasting instruments.'
A scoundrel happened to overhear, an evil one to observe; to a smithy the evil one carried it, arrows he made of it, prepared blunt-headed shafts to be stitch and pleurisy in men, to be sudden sickness in a horse, to be elf-shots (F. jagged spikes) in kine. Arrows the devil (Piru) made, he sharpened jagged spikes in a mountain of steel, in an iron rock. A pile of arrows he made, of heavy arrows—a heap, in a smithy without a door, altogether windowless; he made the heads of steel, he turned the shafts of oak, from the bough of a 'fiery' oak, from the branch of a ruddy tree. His arrows he smoothed, he smoothed, he plumed with a
swallow's little plumes, with feathers from a striped bird's tail. Whence did he get the binding threads? He got the binding threads from the locks of Hiisi's girl, from the melancholy maiden's (kave) hair. The arrows were plumed, but what were they incrusted with? With the venom of a viper snake, with the black poison of a 'worm.' He chose his best bow, attached to it a string, made of a wanton stallion's tail, of the hair of a full-grown animal (emä-kave). He gripped the 'fiery' bow, he stretched the 'fiery' bow ’gainst his left knee, from under his right foot. The swiftest arrow he took, he chose the best shaft, laid the fiery cross-bow straight ’gainst his right shoulder; the first arrow he shot aloft above his head into the azure sky, to the end of a long fringe of cloud. The sky was like to split, the vaults of the air to break, the 'rags' of the air to tear, the roof of the air to bend from the pain of the fiery bolt, from the jagged spikes of Aijö's son; the arrow flew on and on, to a place where nought was ever heard of it again. Then he shot another shaft into the earth below his feet; to Mana the earth was like to go, the hills to powder into mould, the sandy ridges to split, the sandy heaths to snap in two from the anguish caused by the fiery shaft, from the burning pain (F. sparks) of the ruddy tree; the arrow flew on and on, to a place where nought was ever heard of it again. Forthwith he shot a third, a final malignant shaft over firm land and over swamps, over gloomy forest depths ’gainst a mountain of steel, ’gainst an iron rock; the arrow rebounded from the stone, recoiled against the rock and entered a human being's skin, the body of a wretched man. The shaft can be plucked out, the arrow can be withdrawn by virtue of the word of God, always by favour of the Lord.
Of old a lovely oak grew up, a flourishing sapling rose on the neck of a sandy ridge, on a golden hillock's crest; somewhat bushy were its boughs, somewhat ample were its leaves; its branching head attained the sky, its leafy boughs spread through the air, hid the sun that it could not shine, concealed the moon that it could not beam, the Great Bear was hindered from stretching out, the stars of the sky—from moving about.
A shiver seizes the animals, a horror—the water's fish, a strangeness—the birds of the air, a weariness—mankind, as the dear sun no longer shines, nor the moonshine gleams on those unlucky ones, on those unlucky ones, on those unfortunates. They searched for a man, they sought for such a man that could break the oak, could fell the splendid tree, prostrate the goodly tree, could clear the gigantic tree away. No one was found to clear away, to break the brittle tree; they did not find the man, so doughty a man in their own land, in the pleasant country of the Finns, in beautiful Karelia, nor did one come from further off, from the daring land of Swedes, from the weak Russian land, from the kingdom's disputed ground, that could fell the oak, break down the gigantic tree, prostrate the hundred-headed one.
A [vv. small, black, old, iron] man from the sea emerged, from the waves a full-grown man uprose, he was not very large, he was not very small: his height was a quarter ell, as tall as a woman's span, he could lie down under a bowl, he could stand up under a sieve. His hair reached down to his heels behind, his beard reached down to his knees in front; on his nape was an iron hat, on his feet were iron boots, on his arm .were iron sleeves, on his mitts was iron embroidery,
an iron belt begirt his waist, behind his belt was an iron axe, the axe had an iron haft, at the tip of the haft was an iron knob. He sharpened his axe, he whetted the level edge on an iron rock, on a mountain tipped with steel, on five Esthonian stones, on six whetstones, on the ends of seven hones, on the edges of eight; for nights he was grinding the axe, was preparing the haft for days. The axe became sharpened by degrees, the haft was gradually prepared; already the man had become full-grown, the man began to be a man: his feet moved briskly on the ground, his head is touching the clouds, his bristly beard did gleam like a leafy grove upon a slope, his hair did sway like a clump of pines upon a hill. One step he took, another he took, made an effort to reach the oak, he trod with one of his feet on a spot of yielding sand, with the other foot he trod on the liver-coloured earth, with the third stride already he had reached the roots of the oak, the place of pain and endless smarts for that red tree. Firmly he struck the oak with his axe, with the level-edged; from the side of the tree a chip flew off, a chip from the outside splintered off, a wind transported it away to the great open sea, as a boat for Väinämöinen, as wood for the singer's skiff. Once and again he struck a blow, nor was it long before he broke and felled to the ground the oak with its crown to the south, with the lower end northeast, or inclining due north. He looked at the chips, at where the red tree had fallen down, at the ground where lay the wide-spreading oak, and thus he exclaimed in words—
'A useful wood might be got from this, from the boughs of the level-headed oak; whoever takes a branch, has taken eternal luck, whoever cuts off a leafy bough, cuts off an
eternal power to please, whoever breaks off a topmost bough, breaks off an eternal magic skill.'
As for the chips that had flown, the splinters that had splintered off, a billow drifted them, the swell of the sea tossed them about, a gust of wind swung them to and fro, the water carried them ashore to a long promontory's point, to an evil pagan's beach. Hiisi's tiny little lass, a woman of complexion fair, was washing dirty clothes, was besprinking ragged clouts at the end of a long foot-bridge, on the top of a big landing-stage. She seized the chips, into splinters she split them up, cut into chips the leafy bough, into her wallet she gathered them, in her wallet she carried them home, in the long-thonged pouch—to the yard; from her pouch she snatched out the chips, and upset them about the house.
Three of her brothers were in the hut, and they questioned her—'What could a sorcerer get from these, what could Keito hammer out?' The woman (kapo) exclaimed in words—'Something a capable man will get, a man of skill will hammer out, wood for arrows a sorcerer will get, Lempo—leaf-headed spears, and Sudden Death—stitch and pleurisy.'
Hiisi [v. Piru] happened to overhear, the evil one [v. Perkele] to observe, to the smithy he sent his son to hammer out some arrow-heads, to forge some spears. To the smithy the laddie went, the boy made arrows, turned out blunt-headed arrows, a pile of arrows he prepared, of heavy arrows a heap, he forged a dozen pikes, made a bundle of spears from the branches of the 'fiery' oak, from the red tree's jagged spikes; he made them neither great nor small, he made them spears of medium size, with which he stabbed a hundred men, stuck a thousand
men. Piru took up his stabbing tools, Keito seized hold of the spears, kept brandishing his spears, launched angrily his jagged spikes as stitch and pleurisy in men, as elf-shots in the kine; nothing does Hiisi care whither he shoots his shafts, whether at a beast with horns, or at a neighing horse, or into a human being's skin, the body of a woman's (kapo) son.
A 'fiery' oak grew up on a fiery' plain; from Pohjola there came a boy, from the cold village—a full-grown man, trailing behind him a tiny sledge; on the sledge is a tiny axe with a handle an ell in length, with an edge a span in height, the edge is new, the handle old, new gloves are on his hands, on the gloves there is old embroidery. He had the patience to set to work, to batter the 'fiery' tree, to smash the 'sparky' one, into splinters he hewed and hacked it up into chips as a litter for cows. Wind carried them out to sea, to be drifted by waves of the sea, to Tuoni's murky stream, to the under-water of Manala; arrows a sorcerer gets from them, a devil (Pirulainen)—stabbing instruments. Arrows the devil (Piru) made, Lempo—leaf-headed spears, from the boughs of the 'fiery' oak, from splinters of the evil tree in a smithy without a door, in one quite windowless; from Piru an arrow whizzed, from Lempo a leaf-headed spear—into a wretched human skin, the body of a mother's son.
The daughter of Nature, Udutar, the sharp maiden Terhetär, sifted mist with a sieve, kept scattering fog at a misty promontory's point, at the end of a foggy isle; from
this have fevers their origin, fevers and pleurisies in a naked skin, in a body full of pain.
Sampsa (and) boy Pellervoinen all summer lay on the hard ground in the middle of a field of corn, in the bosom of a grain-filled barge; 1 he put six grains, seven seeds in a martin's skin, in a summer-squirrel's leg, departed to sow the land, to scatter thickly seed. With stooping back he sowed the land, he sowed firm land, he sowed the swamps, sowed the sandy clearings run to waste, he planted places full of stones. Hillocks he sowed with clumps of fir, sowed hills with clumps of spruce, with clumps of heather—sandy heaths, valleys—with sapling shoots, birches he sowed in humid dells, the alder trees—in looseish earth, in moist land sowed birdcherry-trees, in holy places—rowan trees, willows—on flooded land, sallows—on meadow boundaries, in sterile places—junipers, and oaks along the river banks. The trees began to sprout, the sapling shoots to grow, while rocked by a gust of wind, while swung by a chilly wind; the bushy-headed firs grew up, the branching- headed pines spread out, birches sprang up in humid dells, the alder trees on looseish earth, birdcherry-trees on dampish earth, in holy places rowan-trees, willows on flooded land, sallows on moistish land, on sterile ground the junipers and oaks along the river banks.
1. 1. Pellervoinen, the son of the field, Sampsa, the tiny little boy.
1. 1. Ahti (and) boy Pellervoinen sowed land in former days
1. 1. Old Väinämöinen himself, the eternal soothsayer.
1. 1. The God of the air himself, nature's Almighty Maker.
1. 1. Kunerva, Kanerva's son, sowed land in former days.
Semmer, the limping 1 boy, sowed land in former days, sowed humid dells, birch-trees sprang up; sowed hills, spruces grew up; sowed hillocks, firs grew up; sowed ridge;, aspens grew, small pines grew up, poor wretched shoot: shot up, tall slender firs grew up, huge airy pines, birdcherries grew and oaks grew up, unbending junipers grew ip, fine berries has the juniper, good fruit—the bird-cherry tree.
The Creator uttered from the sky, pure God spoke forth—'All trees are made by God, are grown by the Omnipotent, are rocked by Tuuletar, are tended by chilly wind, by frosty weather are put to sleep, are suckled by bitter frost.'
1. 1. Swamp's maiden and Heather's (Kanerva) son went off to sow the land.
1. 1. Kyyni walked o’er sandy heaths, Kyyni sowed the sandy heaths.
A wolf was running along the ice, a pike was swimming below the ice, a hair of the wolf snapt off, a tooth of the
dark-grey pike; fair Kati, the youthful girl, from the ice plucked off the hair, dug the lower end into a heath, into an old man's black mud, in a dale she planted the upper end. Then a birth took place, a family was bred from it, a fir grew from it with scores upon its sides, a 'moist with honey'—in Metsola; it was rocked by Hongatar, was swung by Lemmetär, was shrieked at by Kangahatar, was rocked by Tuuletar, was put to sleep by chilly wind, was suckled by bitter frost.
Tuoni's red-cheeked son into the water kicked his seine, his dragnet—under the wave, at the end of a 'fiery' cape, at the point of a 'fiery' cape. There he caught a pike; he landed it to have it cooked, the pike's teeth fell with a crash on a meadow without a name, unknown by name; a swamp-fir sprang from it, a ruddy shoot shot up, a 'golden' fir grew up from it, a 'golden' bushy-headed fir.
A girl of Pohja with swarthy cheeks ploughed swamps, ploughed land, ploughed finally outlying rims; on the swamps then heather sprouted up, by the brooks—small willow trees, in the valleys birches reared themselves, on the hills firs rose, on the hillocks pines shot up.
A creature (kave) ran along the swamps, ran over swamps, ran over land, ran over moist abandoned fields; it shook off some of its hair, flung down on the ground its woo, then from it a birth took place, from it every tree Was reared, from it slender pines arose, bushy pines branched thickly out, bushy-headed firs grew up.
From a clean place have issued trees, from a soft place the 'bushy tops,' the fir—from densely wooded land, the 'honey top'—from Metsola. The fir is an unsteady boy [v. a tall and lanky boy] that by Hotja has been watched, 7, by a Turjalainen has been rocked, by a Vaaralainen [v. Värjälainen] has been swung, by cold weather is put to sleep, was suckled by bitter frost, was soused with water from the sky, with warm water was splashed; it sprang from the earth like a strawberry, liked a rooted plant with unbending head, it grew like a two-branched plant, like a three-branched plant shot up, the dew of the air made it grow, 18, heaven's water made it shoot, it expanded like wheaten dough, bobbed here and there like a butter pat. Thou Fir, the paltry useless boy, brought forth by Syöjätär, formed from the earth by Maajatar, wast by a hillock reared, made bushy by Pellervoinen [v. Pelleroinen], 26, by Naservainen wast nailed down, like a strawberry hast sprouted from the earth, like an arctic bramble—in the woods, through thee the sun has shone, a grassy hillock suckled thy roots, a wind rocked to and fro thy boughs.
7. By a whirlwind [v. Tuuletar, v. Tutjelmoinen] has been rocked.
18. The blood of Jesus made it shoot.
26. By Nasarvainen [v. Natulainen] wast pegged down.
The Fir is a tall and lanky boy, a tree is the pure creation of God, a sprout by Jesus is drawn forth, a shoot by good luck brought to light, by Kanarvainen reared, by
stormy weather buffeted; a bough of it with honey drips, keeps spirting forth a luscious juice; God drenched the shoot, a cloud touched its branching head, wind swayed its trunk, the restless air kept shaking it. The birch was grown in a nook, on ground where berry-stalks abound, was formed by three Luonnotars, was softened by a Pelkolainen; the alder was not made for wood, not for wood nor for earth, it was made for gripings in the wame, as a remedy for hurts, as a salve for sores, as an embrocation for wounds.
All trees were created by God, 2, save the evil alder buckthorn, 3, by a pagan that was made, it's a hair of a Pirulainen's beard; 5, by Hiisi the aspen was prepared, by Piru was the rowan made, by Lempo was the birdcherry rocked, Käsönen's son is the juniper, by Lemmes [v. Lenges] was the alder made, by Kanelia [v. Kaljolainen] it was grown.
2. The worst of trees is meadow rue.
3. By a pagan was the willow made.
5. The aspen is Hiisi's harlot son.
A woman, old and furious, with the movement of the wind and water, with the movement of all the fish, 1 was carrying a heavy womb, a bellyful of suffering, for thirty summers and for as many winters too; she finally got a malignant
boy, an eater of flesh, a biter of bone; into a cancer she fashioned him. She reared her son, her offspring she covered round with bloody clothing, with gory shirts. Then she sent him away to devour, to gnaw, to lacerate a christened man, and destroy a man baptized, to rot his flesh and to gnaw his bones.
The aërial god himself, Ukko, the Creator above, rubbed together both his palms on the end of his left knee, then three maidens were born, all the three Luonnotars, to be mothers of iron ore (F. rust), to be generators of steel (F. blue mouth). The girls came swinging along, 'long the edge of the air the maidens stepped with swollen breasts, with smarting teats, on the ground they milked their milk, let their breasts pour forth, they milked upon land, they milked upon swamps, on still waters they milked. One milked black milk, she was the eldest of the girls, the second discharged a jet of red, she of the girls was the middle one, the third poured forth white milk, she was the youngest of the girls. One had milked black milk, from it soft iron had its origin, one had discharged a jet of red, thence brittle iron was obtained, one had poured forth white milk, and from it steel was made.
A little interval elapsed, Iron wished to meet his elder brother and to make the acquaintance of Fire. Fire became insolent, grew exceeding terrible, he burnt up swamps, he burnt up land, burnt up dense wooded wilds, was on the point of burning his poor wretched brother
[paragraph continues] Iron; Iron took to flight, to flight, to hiding himself in gloomy Pohjola, in Lapland's wide and furthest bounds, on the greatest reach of swamp, on a wild mountain-top where swans lay eggs, geese hatch their young. Iron lay stretched out upon the swamp, sprawled idly in the watery place; one year he hid, hid a second year, forthwith hid a third year too, yet he did not manage indeed to escape Fire's raging hands; a second time he had to go, to enter the chamber of Fire when being made into a tool, when being forged into a sword.
A wolf was running along a swamp, a bear was hurrying over a heath, the swamp rose over the feet of the wolf, the sandy heath o’er the paws of the bear, iron bars grew up and lumps of steel, on the tracks of the feet of the wolf, on the dints of the heels of the bear.
65. Ilmarinen the smith, 66, the very skilful hammerer, was wending his way, was pursuing his course, he came by chance on the tracks of the wolf, on the dints of the heels of the bear. He saw the iron sprouts, the lumps of steel on the wolf's huge tracks, where the heel of the bear had turned, and to this speech gave utterance—'Alas for thee, unlucky Iron, for thou art in a wretched plight in a lowly place on a swamp, in the tracks of a wolf, quite in the footsteps of a bear; wouldst thou grow beautiful, 'wouldst thou increase in loveliness, if I removed thee from the swamp and to a smithy carried thee should force thee into a fiery place, should set thee down in a forge?'
Poor Iron gave a sudden start, gave a sudden start, took sudden fright, when he heard mention made of Fire, when he heard speak of raging Fire. Smith Ilmarinen said—'Thou art not, wretched Iron, produced (F. born), thy family is not brought forth, thy household won't grow
up without a violent fire, unless to a smithy ta’en, unless set down in a forge, unless by bellows blown upon; but heed it not, don't pay the least regard, Fire will not burn a friend, will not insult a relative; when thou enter’st the rooms of Fire, the receptacle for coals, then wilt thou grow beautiful, wilt become extremely fair, wilt become good swords for men, or pendants for women's snoods.'
Ever since that day, iron has been kneaded out of swamps, has been trampled out of miry spots, has been obtained from clay. The smith himself stood in the swamp, up to his knees in the black mire, while digging iron from the swamp, while extracting ore (F. earth) from the mire; he seized the iron sprouts, the lumps of steel from the huge footprints of the wolf, from the dints of the heel of the bear.
The smith Ilmarinen set up his bellows there, established there his forge, on the wolf's huge tracks, on the scratches of bruin's heel; into the fire he plunged the iron, blew the bellows all night without a rest, all day without a stop, blew one whole day, blew a second day, blew them forthwith a third day too; the iron stretched like pap, bubbled up like slag, expanded like wheaten dough, like rye-meal dough, in the smith's huge fire, in the hands of glowing heat.
Then smith Ilmarinen looked under the forge to see what the forge had given him, the bellows had squeezed out. First he obtained a brittle iron, then he brought out a bit of slag, then let the white iron pour from the bellows underneath. Then wretched Iron shouted out—'Oho! thou smith Ilmarinen, take me away from here, from the torments of angry Fire.' Smith Ilmarinen said—'If I took thee from the fire thou wilt perhaps grow terrible, wilt begin to go extremely mad, thy brother 1 thou wilt also cut, wilt lacerate
thy mother's child.' Then miserable Iron swore, swore his solemn oath in the forge and on the anvil, under the sledge-hammer's blows—'I'll not touch flesh, I'll not cause blood to flow; there is wood for me to bite, a fallen tree for me to munch, a young fir for me to nip, the heart of a stone for me to eat, so my brother I shall not cut, sha’n’t lacerate my mother's child. ’Tis better for me to exist, more pleasant for me to live as the comrade of a traveller, as a weapon in a wayfarer's hand, than to touch a kinsman with my mouth than injure my kith and kin.'
Then smith Ilmarinen, the hammerer as old as Time, snatched the iron from the fire and on the anvil set it down to make it malleable, to forge it into sharp implements, into axes, into spears, into every sort of implement. He hammers with repeated blows, he strikes cling clang, but the iron will not take an edge, an edge of steel is not produced, the iron won't get hard, 186, nor the edge of iron—durable.
The smith Ilmarinen in his mind thought over this, what ought to be procured, what ought to be obtained to make a fluid to toughen steel, to make a water to harden iron. He prepared a little ash, he dissolved some lye, made trial of it with his tongue, he tasted it with intelligence and expressed himself in words:—'This is no good to me, for a fluid to toughen steel, for a substance for making iron.'
From the ground a bee arose, a 'blue-wing'—from a knoll, it flew, it kept hovering round the smithy of the smith. Smith Ilmarinen ordered it to go to Metsola, to bring honey from Metsola, fine honey from the honeyed woods, for the steel that he will make, for the iron that he will forge. A hornet, 'Hiisi's bird,' the bird of Hiisi, 'Lempo's cat,' round the smithy flew, offering for sale its pains; it was flying about
and it heard the clear words of the smith about steel being made, about iron being forged. It was nimble on the wing, on its pinions was very swift, so managed to get on in front, fetched Hiisi's horrors away, bore off the poison of a snake, the black venom of a 'worm,' the itch-causing fluid of an ant, the hidden poison of a frog, as a fluid to toughen steel, as a water to harden iron.
The smith Ilmarinen himself, the incessant hammerer, believed, supposed that the bee had returned, that it had honey brought, fine honey had fetched, so he uttered a speech and thus he spoke:—'See I for me this is good as a fluid to toughen steel, as a substance to harden iron.' He dipped the poor iron into it, into it he plunged the steel, after lifting it out of the fire, after taking it out of the forge; so steel became bad, iron went raging mad, he cut his poor brother, touched with his mouth his relative, caused blood to flow, caused foaming blood to bubble forth.
65. Trusty old Väinämöinen.
66. The soothsayer old as Time.
186. Unless in water dipt.
Full well I know iron's genesis, I remember the origin of steel. Of old the winds blew otherwise, of old storms whistled otherwise, the head of .a birch tore up the ground, the young shoots of a fir—the fields. Then it blew six years, seven summers it inflicted harm, the wind broke off the heads of oaks, smashed branching [v. huge] sallow trees, knocked a hillock from the ground and conveyed it to the
sea; an isle was formed by spells from it on the clear and open sea, on the island was a lovely wood, in the wood—a meadow smooth, 17, on this two girls grew up, 18, a triplet of brides. Well, the three maidens walked along to a meadow without a name, sat down with their breasts to the east, with their heads to the south, milked their milk upon the ground, their paps—upon the mead.
The milk began to flow, flowed over swamps, flowed over lands, flowed over sandy fields run wild, flowed to a hillock on a swamp, to a honeyed knoll, into golden turf. Hence did poor iron originate, then it was born and was produced, in a swamp, on an earthy knoll, on ground of medium height; iron sprouts grew up as high as the thumb of a man.
Trusty old Väinämöinen, the soothsayer old as time, was wending his way, was pursuing his course; he found the iron sprouts the growing shoots of steel, he looked about, turned round, uttered a speech and thus he spoke—'What sort of growing corn is this and what these sprouting shoots? Something would result from them at a skilful hammerer's.' Into his pouch he gathered them, to a smith's hands he carried them. The smith Ilmarinen sought a place for his forge, found a tiny bit of ground, a very tiny dell where he put his bellows up, where he set up his forge, but wretched iron is not produced (F. grows not) and steel does not originate in a smithy without a door, in a forge without a fire; the blacksmith had lack of wood, the forger in iron—of fire. He got some wood and fire he fetched, but still iron is not made (F. born) unless there be a bellowsman, a man to press the bellows down. He took a servant to blow, a hireling to press them down, he looked underneath the forge, along the bellows' outer edge, iron was already made (F. born) and steel produced.
17. On it four girls grew up,
18. four girls and evil ones they were.
The genesis of steel is known, the origin of iron is guessed: water is the eldest brother, iron is the youngest brother, paltry fire—the middle one; water is the offspring of a hill, fire's genesis is from the sky, iron's origin is from iron ore (F. rust).
Fire began to be violent, into a fury worked himself, much land he badly burnt, much land, much swamp, he burnt up sandy fields run wild, he burnt up sandy heaths; poor iron lay concealed from his angry brother's face. Where did poor Iron hide, where did he hide and save himself in that prodigious year of drought, that summer bad for forest fires? Poor Iron did not hide in old Väinämöinen's belt, in his tripartite sheath, certainly not there. Poor Iron did not hide in a young maiden's paps, under a growing maiden's arm, on a long fringe of cloud, on an oak tree's level head, not there did Iron hide, nor yet in yonder place, inside a blue ewe, in the belly of a copper sheep, in a blue [v. red] pig's breast. He did not hide in the sea below the deep waves, inside a blue sik fish, in a red salmon's breast, nor yet exactly in the sky, above six speckled firmaments (F. lids), in a blue box, in a tall hat of gold [v. in the belly of a golden cock]. There then did Iron hide, both hid and saved himself, in the space between two stumps, beneath a birch-tree's triple root, on a land devoid of knolls, on a totally unknown land, where the wood-grouse keeps her nest, the hen brings up her young.
A wolf lifted mould from a swamp, a bear dug out mould from a heath, iron ore sprang up, and a bar of steel grew up where the wolf had raised his foot, in the dint of the heel of the bear. It was brought to a smithy perhaps, maybe was conveyed to a forge; then iron was produced, from it the requisite steel was made.
Much land was burnt up formerly, much land, much swamp, in a summer bad for forest fires, in a hapless conflagration year; a little bit remained unburnt on a wild mountain top, on the surface of the largest swamp. One wretched man remained on the spot unburnt; already a little of him was burnt, his knees were burning, the flesh of his thighs was scorched, the narrow heels and the left toes; the tips of his toes were badly burnt, into soot the nails were burnt. He ran to a pool in his distress, scraped off the soot, scratched off the scabby crust into the unfrozen pool; from that was iron ore produced, black ordinary mire, in an unfrozen pool, in a bubbling spring.
How did poor iron originate, how was it born and how produced? Thus did poor iron originate, thus was it born and thus produced. A 'gold' fish spawned, a salmon plunged about close by, in an unfrozen pool, in a bubbling spring. Four maidens were bred, a triplet of brides, from the spawn of the golden fish, 12, from the salmon's natural cleft, to be mothers of iron ore, to be breeders of steel (F. blue mouth).
In a dell the maidens stood, powerless the 'tin breasts' lay on a little bank of land, on a narrow piece of ground,
there they made iron, Were engaged in forming steel, they pulverised iron seeds, they pounded lumps of steel. God 1 happened to arrive at the place where the seeds of iron lay, found the pounded bits of iron, the bits of steel that had been made, to a smith's smithy he carried them, to Ilmarinen's forge. The smith Ilmarinen then thrust them in the fire, into the forge he forced them down, from the forge to the anvil then; he hammered with repeated blows, he struck with incessant clang, sweat trickled from the Maker's head, dew—from the face of the god, while forging iron, while making steel. Hence originated wretched iron, poor iron, wretched slag, in a smith's smithy it was born, in Ilmarinen's forge.
1–12. Jesus has two hands, both are uniform, he rubbed together both his palms, ground together both of them, then two maidens were born, all the three Luonnotars.
Ho! thou wretched Iron, poor Iron, useless slag, surely I know thine origin, thine origin and thy genesis: thou art Vuolankoinen's [v. Vuolahainen's] son, art born of Vuolahatar, thy sire is from the fountains of Vuojola, 8, thy mother from Lempi's spring; from swamp-knolls is thine origin, from the knolls of a swamp, from knolls on land, thy sire is from a swamp, thy mother from a swamp, all thy other relatives from swamp. On a swamp a rust-coloured sedge grew up, in a pool—some purple melic grass; it was rocked by Tuuletar, swung to and fro by Lannetär [v. Lemmetär]; from Tuonela Hölmä came,
from under the earth—Manala's son; on the swamp he found the rust-coloured sedge, in the pool—the purple melic grass, to a smith's smithy he carried it, to Ilmarinen's forge, to be forged into iron tools, to be made into tools of steel.
8. Iron's mother is Ruopahatar,
8. thy mother is from Äijö's pen.
From a dell [v. the sea] a maiden rose, a 'soft skirts' from a clump of grass, who was lovely to behold, the delight of the world; to suitors she paid no regard, for the good men no fancy had. A giant (turilas) came, a shirted monster (tursas) of the sea, the wretch to be sure had planned a scheme, had thought upon a fine affair: a nightmare he put down on her, he caused the unwilling one to sleep, brought her to seek repose on a honey-dropping sward, on the liver-coloured earth. There he lay with the girl, made the maiden with child, quickened her into pregnancy, himself his departure took, the scoundrel started to go away, the wretch to wander forth. The girl got oppressed with pain, heavy her womb became, in her suffering she bewailed—'Whither shall I, the poor wretch, whither shall I, the luckless, go in these my days of great distress with cruel torments in the womb?'
The Creator [v. Jesus] uttered from the sky—'Thou harlot, go to be confined within a gloomy wood, in a wooded wilderness recess, there other harlots were confined, strumpets [v. mares] have dropt their young.'
In another direction she went, walked forward with rapid
steps, strode along from stone to stone, leapt from fallen tree to fallen tree, to the homes of the dogs, as far as the woolly whelps. There she discharged her womb, gave birth to her progeny, got a son of an evil sort, the hideous Rickets boy that gnaws the navel's root, that eats the backbone away.
They sought for a man to christen him, for a man to baptize the gnawing boy at the well of Kaleva's son, on the props of a little sleigh; none was got from there, nor from ten villages, from seven hinges. However, Rickets was baptized, they christened the ill-omened boy on 56 the shore, on a water-girt stone, 57, on one passed over by a wave, 58, by a billow lightly touched.
Was the water clean with which the Rickets was baptized? The water was not clean, the water was mixed with blood, harlots had washed their caps in it, bad women—their shirts, their jackets ragged at the rim, their stinking petticoats. Therein the Rickets was baptized, they christened the ill-omened boy, a name was given to the brute, the name of Rickets to the wretch.
56–58. In the bloody hut of Hiitola where they were slaughtering swine.
57, 58, In a pond on a water-lily leaf, in a doorless room, entirely windowless.
The powerful woman Louhiatar, 2, Pohja's ragged-tailed old wife, that has a swarthy countenance, a skin of hideous hue, was walking along a path, was creeping along the
course; on the path she made her bed, on the course her sleeping-place, she lay with her back to the wind, with her stern to a chilly blast, with her groin to a fearful storm, with her side due north.
There came a great gust of wind, from the east a tremendous blast, the wind raised the skirts of her furs, the blast—the skirts of her petticoat, the wind got the dolt with child, it quickened her into pregnancy on an abandoned naked field, on a tract without a knoll. She carried a heavy womb, a bellyful of suffering, one month, two months she carried it, for a third, for a fourth, five months, six months she carried it, seven months, eight, over nine months, by woman's ancient reckoning, nine months and a half. At the end of the ninth month, at the beginning of the tenth the time of travail had approached, heavy the womb had become, it oppressed her painfully; she sought a place for lying-in, a spot for lightening her wame, in the space between two rocks, in a recess between five hills; she obtained no assistance there, no lightening for her wame. So she shifted farther on, betook herself to another place, to an undulating pool, to the side of a natural spring, but no birth took place, the embryo formed was not brought forth. To a water-girt stone she dragged herself, to a fiery rapid's foam, under three waterfalls, under nine steep slopes, but no birth took place, no lighter became the wretch's womb. The foul creature began to weep, to shriek, to bewail herself, she knew not whither she should go, in what direction she should move to relieve her wame, to bring to birth her progeny.
God 1 spake from a cloud, the Creator uttered from the
sky—'A three-cornered shed is on the swamp, on the shore facing the sea in gloomy Pohjola, 64, in Lapland's wide and distant bounds; go thither to be confined, to lighten thy womb; there they have need of thee, they await thy progeny.'
Pohja's swarthy old wife went thither to be confined, to lighten her womb; there the evil miscreant was delivered of her progeny, brought her vicious children forth, under five woollen rugs, under nine quilts of hers. She brought nine sons to birth, the tenth was a female child, on a single summer night, from a single filling of the womb. She swaddled her progeny, her acquisitions she knotted up, invited the Maker to baptize, God to give them a name; the Maker did not baptize, the Almighty did not christen them. She sought for a man to christen them, for one to baptize the evil brood—'Juhannes, the holy knight, come to christen these, to baptize my progeny, to give my offspring names.' Juhannes, the priest of God, to her made reply—'Depart, thou harlot, with thy sons, uncreated heathen, decamp, christen thyself thy accursed, thyself baptize thy progeny. I do not christen evil ones, I do not baptize the horrible, the Creator I baptized, I christened the Omnipotent.'
The wicked pagan indeed took on herself to act as priest, profanely acted as christener, christened her progeny herself, herself baptized her accursed ones, christened and gave them names herself, on the point of her aching knee, with her aching palm. Her acquisitions she named, her children she arranged, as all do with their progeny, with the offspring they've brought forth—she named the lassie Tuuletar, gave her the name of Vihmatar, then she appoints her sons, the one for this, the other for that; she squeezed up one into a
boil, she stiffened another into scab, she pricked one into pleurisy, she formed another into gout, by force she made one into gripes, she chased another into fits, she crumpled one into sudden death, into rickets she cut up another one. One remained without getting a name, a boy at the bottom of the batch, a mouthless, eyeless brat; afterwards she ordered him away, to the tremendous Rutja rapids, into the fiery foaming surge. From him sharp frosts were bred, from him arose the Syöjätärs, from him the other destroying ones, he begat the sorcerers on lakes, the wizards in every dell, the jealous persons in every place, in the tremendous Rutja rapids, in the fiery foaming surge.
1. The old woman Loviatar (Lokahatar, Laveatar, Launavatar).
2. The harlot mistress of Pohjola.
64. In misty Sariola.
The blind [v. swarthy] daughter of Tuonela [v. Pohjola], 2, the wholly blind of Ulappala [v. the hideous child of Manala], the origin of every ill, of thousands of destructive acts, 5, sat down with her back [v. breast] to the east, 6, remained with her head to the south, her feet projected towards the west, with her hips north-west. A wind began to blow, the horizon—to storm; the wind blew into her hips, the chill wind into her lower limbs, through her the west wind blew, through her a north-wester dashed, through her the north wind crashed, through the bone and through the joints, wind blew her into pregnancy, the chill wind [v. dawn of day] made her big with child. Tuoni's
swarthy girl then swelled, filled out, became big from it, became round and large; thus she carried a heavy womb, a bellyful of suffering; two summers she carried it, she carried it two, she carried it three, seven summers she carried it, eight years at any rate, nine years in all, less by nine nights. So in the ninth year she was seized with a woman's pains, was affected by woman's (kapo) throes, was attacked by young woman's pains (F. fire). She sank down to find repose, on an iron rock, on a hill of steel, in the middle of the Hill of Pain, on the top of the Mountain of Pain, there she could not find repose; she shifted her place, she tried to reduce her wame, on the top of a silver hill, on a golden mountain's peak; no birth took place, the belly's pains were not reduced. She tried to reduce her wame, to lighten by a half her womb, in the space between two rocks, in the nook between three boulder stones, inside the walls of a fiery stove, in a stove of stone, in a barrel of oak, within iron hoops, at the brink of 'fiery' rapids, in the eddy of an awful (F. holy) stream; in these her belly was not reduced, no lighter became the wretch's womb.
Into the sea she dashed aside, into a water-Hiisi's den, into a hidden bug-bear's (sala-kammo) pen, into the nixies’ (lumma-koira) huts; into the sea she ran knee-deep, up to her garter in the wet, to her belt-clasp in the wave; there she shouted and cried aloud to the perch, to the roach, to all the water's fish: 'Dear ruff, thy slaver bring, dear burbot—thy sliminess, here in Hiisi's sultry heat [v. in Hell-fire], in the evil power's fire.'
She got nine sons within sound of one waterfall, quite close to one Sound, on one water-girt stone, from one filling of the wame, from one tight stuffing of the womb. She
sought for a man to christen them, a man to christen, a man to baptize; she took them to a pair of priests, she carried them to the sacristans, the priests refused to give them names, the sacristans did not consent; solemnly the priests replied, and firmly spake the sacristans—'We were not ordained for this, were not ordained, were not designed to christen the iniquitous, to baptize the horrible.'
As she did not get a christener, a priest that would give them names, she made herself the christener, the office of baptist she undertook. Her acquisitions she baptized, her progeny she 'bewitched,' she gave to her offspring names, she gave them names, she incited them, she changed one into a Wolf, into a Snake she turned the next, into a Cancer she made the third, into a Ring-worm (F. forest's nose) made the fourth, the others into destructive ones, told one to be the Thrush, into being a Cripple she hustled one, into a Toothworm—another one, another she made to devour the Heart, and one to be Woman's Enemy.
1, 2. Hiisi's maiden with covered ears, Pimettölä's short-nailed one, Hiisi's old wife with iron teeth.
5, 6, Sat down with her breast to the east, with her head toward the rays of the sun.
6, Facing the dawn of the day.
The enormous maiden Akäätär, whose hair-plait reached to her heels, whose paps hung down to her knees in front, caused her petticoat to flap on the top of the Mountain of Pain [v. Help], at the centre of the Hill of Pain [v. Help];
as she got no help from it when on fire with maidens’ lust, into the sea she sprang aside, into the waves obliquely rushed; a bearded monster of the sea (meri-tursas) slept with the maiden there, on the turgid foam of the sea, on the mighty waters' froth, made the girl to be with child, and quickened her into pregnancy; a birth took place in consequence, an evil progeny was born.
When the time to be confined approached, she came to the rooms of Pohjola, to the bath-house floors of Sariola, to be delivered of her bairns, to bring forth her brood, at the end of the bath-house centre beam, on the couch of the bathing-house; she brought forth a swarm of boys, a flock of children she produced in one bath-house, where they raised steam once where the bath was heated once, by the glimmer of a single moon, when a single cock had crowed. Her children she hid, her acquisitions she concealed in a copper vat, in a fiery washing-tub under five woollen rugs, under eight kaftans; she gave names to the evil brats, attached a name to each of them, she propped up one into being Wind, poked up one into being Fire, appointed one to be Sharp Frost, scattered one into being a Fall of Snow, tore one into being Atrophy, she designated one the Worm, struck one into being a Cancerous Sore, made one an Eater of the Heart, another to eat up furtively, one to stab openly, to claw the limbs with violence, to cause an aching in the joints. One she formed into Gout, and into his hands put a plane, pricked one into being Pleurisy, and arrows she put in his fist, in his wicker basket—spears; struck with their points the horses neighed, when the fiends (piru) laid hands on the foals; Bitter Frost she sent away, she caused him to sweep the sea, to brush the billows with a broom.
1. Naata, the youngest of the girls, the mistress of Hiitola.
A stumpy lassie, Tuoni's girl, the swarthy daughter with shaven head, was crushing iron seeds, was pounding nibs of steel in a mortar of iron with a pestle tipped with steel, in a smithy without a door, entirely windowless; what she crushed she sifted out, to the sky she raised a dust. A furious old crone [v. the strong woman, Louhiatar] ate those iron groats, swallowed the iron hail, the triturated bits of steel; pregnant she became thereby, became thereby with child, she carried a painful womb, a bellyful of suffering for three full years [v. for thirty summers], less by three days [v. for as many winters too]. She sought a place for lying-in near an ornamented church, at the side of a 'hundred planks,' in a dead man's home, in the house of a deceased; there she found no place. She sought one here, she sought one there, at last found a suitable place in the bloody hut of Hiitola where pigs were being killed. There she lightened her wame, gave birth to her progeny, to become all sorts of sicknesses, a thousand causes of injury.
Nikotiera, the parish whore, brought her children forth outside the door of the church, below the red-painted stair; she gave birth to three boys, one is the evil Bloody Flux, the second the ugly Scab Disease, the third son is the Pestilence.
Pohja's cold-throated old wife for long was sleeping in the cold, a long while—in a mossy swamp. On awakening from sleep she caused her petticoat to flap, the bottom of her dress to twirl; she rubbed together her two palms, scrubbed together both of them. From that blood dropt, rolled down to the mossy swamp, from it was got an evil brood, wretched rust was bred from it, sprang up in the tufts of grass at a ploughman's steps.
A brown and scabby crone, the evil mother of boils, gave birth to a scabby son, screeched over an ill-tempered one, eight-headed, with a single foot (F. root), on a scabby bed, begotten of a scabby sire out of a scabby dam, a mother covered with boils; she flung her angry son against a human being's skin, at the body of a woman's (kapo) son.
The pig's origin is known, the 'down-turned snout’s' is guessed: thy mother was a Tynymys, thy father was a Kynymys [v. a Kynönen, v. Saint Kynönen]; with snout and hoofs plough up the ground, with thy snout rout up the turf, don't tear the fences down, don't overturn the gates.
From the Lord a pearl fell off, crashed down from the Omnipotent, from the sky above, from the hollow of Jesus’
hand, on the edge of Osmo's [v. a holy] field, on Pellervoinen's unploughed edge; a birth took place from it, a family was bred, bent-grass grew up from it, from it was formed a husk of chaff. It rose from the earth like a strawberry, grew up like a three-branched plant, was made to branch by fire-cleared land, was made to grow where trees were felled, was rocked by a swirl of wind, was suckled by a bitter frost, by the Maker was drawn up by the head [v. Jesus drew it up by the head], was sustained by the Omnipotent [v. the Almighty made it grow].
On the sea spat Syöjätär, Lapahiitto—on the waves, the bubble floated on the sea, on the great open sea—the froth. Kasaritar [r. Kasarikki], the lovely girl, sat down on a birch-tree's crooked bough, reposed on an aspen branch; she rose from the bitch-tree's crooked bough, she looked about, she turned her eyes towards the liquid sea, she espied the bubble floating by, the froth as it drifted past. She took the bubble down her throat, into her nostrils drew the froth; the bubble burnt her throat, her nostrils it scorched, slipt down from the throat to the wame, into her belly dropt suddenly. Kasaritar, the lovely girl, thereby was filled, thereby was swelled, and carried a heavy womb for three whole years; she then brought forth an evil brat; what was the name they gave it? It got the name of Lizard, a heap of twigs for its abode, as its home—a dry birch stump, as a house—a rotten trunk.
The good mistress, Nuoramo, was stepping from stone to stone, from knoll to knoll; from her bosom fell a pearl, a golden trinket rattled down against a brushwood-covered hill, on a heap of twigs below a fence; from it a birth took place, a lizard was produced, it grew up by the side of a rock, with a stake as its support, in a heap of twigs below the fence.
O Lizard, 'Hiisi's [v. Lempo's] eye,' 'land-muik,' 1 water-bleak,' full well I know thine origin: thy father was a Brisk (silkuna), thy mother was a Brisk, thou art a Brisk thyself. Thou wast made from the wood of birch, of an aspen's fungus wast composed, wast made from a tarry root, run up in haste from a branch of fir, wast collected from a heap of dust, from feathers wast jumbled up, put behind the corner of a house, poked into a pile of logs, tossed into a heap of twigs, flung carelessly below a fence.
Vingas, the hearty old man, with old wife Vangas 2 slept, against a wood-pile in the yard, over against some birchen logs, against a pile of leafy twigs, of wild birdcherry-tree supports; thereby a family was bred, a large 'pod' increased; while they slept there came a boy, Ungermo—while they reposed. Secretly the child was brought, by stealth the boy was pushed inside a room of birdcherry-wood, a cradle
of birdcherry-wood; the boy was not hidden there, the boy poked himself into the yard underneath a long pile of wood, facing some rowan wood.
Where can the boy be sent, the precious one be shewn the way? He must be carried away to the furthest field, to be placed on the headland of the field; it is by no means pleasant there. There pigs kept routing up the ground, the 'down-turned snouts' keeping turning it. Where can the boy be sent, can Ungermo be shewn the way; shall he be taken to the woods? The boy was taken to the woods, to the middle of a honeyed wood; for the boy ’tis evil being there: honeyed woods dry up, hunters may burn them down. Where can the bad boy be sent, the destroyer be destroyed; into the water should he be led? Into the water the boy was led, for the boy ’tis evil being there: young men will draw a net, keep flogging with a fishing line, old men will haul a net, will make it fast with sinks of stone. Where can the boy be sent, can Ungermo be shewn the way? The boy was led to a field run wild, to a rotten birch-stump home, to the hollow of a mouldering stump, into a 'worm' he there was changed, into a lizard was transformed.
Vingas embraced Vängäs, shrieked, made a noise, in a thicket of birdcherry-trees, in a thick wood of willow-trees, underneath a stone, ’gainst a bramble-covered heap of stones; then a birth took place, a little lizard was produced, a 'courtyard sweepings,' 'trash of fields,' 'ground-sweepings,' 'trash of Manala' that under fences lives, that rustles in a pile of twigs.
Great, hungry wolf! excessively fat dog! I know thy breed. I know, sly brute, thine origin: a country lass, a girl of the soil, was going along a path, trod swamps, trod land, trod sandy heaths, trod places trod before, trod un-trodden ground; from the withered grass she plucked some flowers, from tufts of hay—some pellicles; she wound them in her winding-cloth, into her tattered head-attire. At last she sat upon a stone at a green thicket's edge; there she combed her locks, she brushed her hair; she caused her pearls to chink, her golden ornaments to clink; a pearl dropt down among the grass, down a golden trinket crashed; from it a crafty one was born, a 'hairy foot' was bred, a 'woolly tail' throve well, the wolfish breed appeared.
Thou everlasting gad-about, an evil son for all thy life, from where is thy family, from what, dread one, is thine origin, from wind or from the sky, or from a deep water-spring? Not from the wind, not from the sky, not from a deep water-spring; dread one! I know thine origin, thy breed, thou horror of the land. Syöjätär on the water spat, 'defective shoulder' (Lapalieto)—on the waves, then Kuolatar appeared, 14, Kuolatar from the sea rose up on a treeless isle, on a stoneless reef; she rubbed together her two palms, scrubbed together both of them, she obtained a little scurf; she flung it on the lake, on the undulating sea, over her left shoulder; wind wafted it ashore into a wooded forest-creek; there wast thou born,
thou 'windy throat,' there didst arrive, thou 'hairy snout,' thou wast bred on the open sea, wast reared in a wooded creek.
l. 14. Nuoratar [v. Maaratar] from the sea rose up.
Wolf's origin is known, where the wolf was born: 3, the old woman Loveatar, the harlot mistress of Pohjola, when she was bringing forth her sons, to her children was giving birth, in the hollow of a frosty pool, in an icy well's recess, no birth took place, the offspring was not brought to birth. She removed to another place, was delivered of her sons in a dense bird-cherry grove, mid branches broken by the wind; there the birth took place, her offspring was brought to birth. There she brought forth a splendid boy that eats the bone, that bites the flesh, that draws up blood quite raw; on getting him she said—'Alas! my wretched son, seeing my wretched son is one that eats the bone, that bites the flesh, that draws up blood quite raw. If I led him into a room, he would destroy my room, if I built for him a bath, he would reduce my bath to bits.' Old Väinämöinen said—'Let him live in happiness beside deep woods where squirrels live, in a wooded forest-creek.'
3. A crone of Viro, a rampant quean, an old woman raging mad.
Whence the origin of Finland's salt, the genesis of violent hail? Hence the origin of Finland's salt, the
genesis of violent hail: Ukko, the god of the sky, the great lord of the air himself, struck fire in the sky; into the sea a spark shot down, was drifted by the waves, broke up into 'hail'; 1 from it there came large grains of salt, from that the heavy 'hailstones' grew.
Four maidens formerly, 2, three [v. six] celebrated daughters, were mowing blue grassy ground, were gathering horse-tail grass at the end of a misty cape, at the head of a foggy isle. They mowed one day, they mowed the next, forthwith they mowed the third day too; what they had mown they raked up, drew into swaths the whole of it, arranged the hay in cocks, into a hundred heaps, then into a stack they piled it up, into a thick rick heaped it up. The meadow was already mown, the hay spread out on upright poles; from Turja came a Lapp, the fiery Tursas was his name, into the fire he flung the hay, he tossed it down among the flames.
There resulted a little ash, a small quantity of sparks; the daughters reflected then, the maidens deliberated where the ashes should be gathered up, the hot ash residue be put—'They were short of ash, they stood in urgent need of lye to wash the head of the son of the sun, the good hero's eyes.'
From the mountains came a wind, from the north-east a heavy storm, the wind carried the ashes away, the north-easter gathered the glowing ash from the end of the misty cape, from the head of the foggy isle, 36, to a
[paragraph continues] 'fiery' rapid's brink, to the banks of a holy stream. Wind brought the acorn of an oak, transported it from a distant land to the fiery rapid's brink, to the banks of the holy stream, and threw it on a goodly place, on a border of fat earth. A young sprout uprose from it, an incomparable shoot sprang up, from it there grew a splendid oak, a gigantic sallow raised itself, its head was striving towards the sky, its boughs spread outwards into space.
2. Four maidens, three full-grown men.
36. To the margin of Lake Alue.
37. To the mud of a bay of the sea.
Four maidens formerly, a triplet of brides were gathering a horse-tail grass, were breaking off a single blade (F. hair) on the edge of a fiery cape, in a fiery promontory's creek. The girls made hay, collected the horse-tail grass, they mowed the great, they mowed the small, mowed once the middle sort; what they had managed to mow they raked up into heaps at once, they arranged it in little shocks, in a thousand little sheaves, stuck it in between poles, at the bottom of a hundred stacks.
From Pohjola came a boy [v. From Lapland flew a bird], from Lapland proper—a child [v. from Turjaland an eagle came]; to ashes he burnt the hay, he reduced it to sparks, 21, the ashes he put in a birch-bark pouch, in a wallet collected the glowing ash. The ashes perhaps were carried from there—the sparks perhaps were sown—from the edge of the fiery cape, from the fiery promontory's creek to the distant fields of the north, to Lapland's plains
beset with snares, and sown in the earth's black mud, 30, on a solid mountain's slope; a huge oak tree grew up there, a green sapling raised itself, most ample as regards its boughs, most spreading as regards its sprays.
21–30. It gathered up the sparks from there, put all the ash in a birch-bark pouch, the sparks were sown, the ashes were thrown in front of the gate of Pohjola, on the threshold of the 'speckled lid.'
Much did Kyytöläinen weep, the poor wretch lamented sore on the back of a swamp, on a knoll of the ground, at the very end of all the heath, a tear trickled from his eye, one after the other dropt. In drops the water dript to the ground below his feet, like a river it flowed from there, like a stream it streamed, then it widened into a pond, with a crash it became a lake, lastly it grew into a sea, was swept into a wave. From this three seas arose, three waters rolled, three billows swept along from Kyytöläinen's tears. A sandy ridge grew up, a secret isle was formed by spells, a sandy hill then rose, a golden hillock raised itself, where the three seas had flowed, where the waves had swept along. Four maidens later on found a sapling oak, they carried it to productive soil, to the border of a sandy isle. From it an awful tree grew up, a mighty oak-tree reared itself, most ample as regards its boughs, most smooth as regards its leaves.
From a dell a maiden rose, a girl—from the humid earth, a warm maiden—from a spring, 'blue-socks'—from
the corner of a swamp, a swarthy girl with shaven head, a maiden with skinless teats; in her hand is a copper box, in the box is a golden comb. The maiden combed her head, she brushed her hair, on the back of a speckled stone, in a burning heat, on an angry river's bank, near a noble cataract; a tooth of her comb snapt off, a bristle of her brush broke loose; from it. a lovely shoot grew up, a splendid sapling straightened out on the angry [v. holy] river's bank, near the heavy cataract, an oak with flowery boughs grew up, with flowery boughs, with an acorn 1 of iron; its head seized hold of the sky, its branches held the clouds.
Pellervoinen, the boy of the field, Sampsa, the tiny little boy, when of yore he sowed the land, sowed land and swamps, got the trees to grow, the young shoots to sprout; one tree—an oak—had failed to sprout, the 'tree of god' had struck no root. He left it wholly to itself, to its future fate; two nights elapsed, then three, an equal number too of days; he started off to ascertain whether the oak had sprouted up, the 'tree of god' had struck a root; the oak tree had not sprouted up, the 'tree of god' had struck no root. He left it wholly to itself, to its future fate, he waited three nights more, and an equal number of days, he started off to ascertain directly after the three nights, at the end of a week at anyrate; already the oak had sprouted up, the 'tree of god' had struck a root, by Jesus was the shoot drawn up, it was grown by the soil of the earth; whoever took a branch of it, took
lifelong luck, whoever cut a sprig from it, cut off eternal power to please.
I know the titmouse's origin, from what the titmouse was made, the little bird was formed; of trees the willow first was born, of trees—the willow, of land—the knoll, of forest animals—the bear, the titmouse—of the birds of th’ air. A pellet from a willow dropt, from a sallow a fragment fell on a naked abandoned field, from that the titmouse was made, the little bird was formed.
Ukko of the air struck fire, produced a sudden flash with his fire-pointed sword, with his scintillating blade in the sky above, behind the enclosure of the stars [v. in the third story]. He got fire with the blow, he concealed the spark in a golden bag, in a silver frame, and gave it to a girl to rock, to be swung by a maiden of the air. On a long cloud the girl, on the margin of the air the maid, rocked to and fro the fire, kept swinging the flame in a cradle of gold, in silver thongs; the thongs of silver creaked, the golden cradle clanked, clouds moved, the heavens squeaked, the lids of the sky got a list to one side, while fire was being rocked, while flame was being swung. The girl rocked to and fro the fire, kept swinging up and down the flame, with her fingers she arranged the fire, with her hands she tended the flame; fire fell from the stupid girl, the flame—from the careless one, from the hands of her that dandled it, from the fingers of her that
cherished it. The fiery spark fell suddenly, the red drop whizzed, through the heavens flashed, through the clouds fell down from above the nine skies, through the six speckled firmaments (F. lids). The fiery spark shot suddenly, the red drop fell from where the Creator had struck, where Ukko of the air struck fire, through a sooty chimney-hole, through the dry ridge-beam into Tuuri's new house, the roofless one of Palvonen; then after it had come into Tuuri's new house it began to do evil deeds, set to work at ignoble deeds: it tore the daughters' breasts, the arms of the little girls, it injured the knees of boys, burnt the master's beard. The mother was suckling her babe in a miserable crib under the sooty chimney-hole; when the fire came in it burnt the baby in the crib, the mother's breast; then it went its way, it continued its course, first burnt much land, much land, much swamp, burnt sandy abandoned fields, and forests terribly, at last it plashed into a lake, into the waves of Lake Alue [v. Alava, v. Alimo]. Thereby Lake Alue was kindled into flames, began to sparkle with sparks in the power of the raging fire; over its banks it spurted up, swelled over the forest firs, swelled so that the fish, that the perch were left on the arid reef. Yet the fire was not quenched by Lake Alue's waves; it attacked a moor of junipers, so the moor of junipers was burnt, it dashed at a clump of firs, burnt up the lovely clump of firs, it still went rolling further on, burnt the half of Bothnia, a corner of Savo's bounds, a portion [v. both halves] of Karjala. Into concealment then it went, to hide its infamous deeds, it threw itself down to rest under the roots of two stumps, in the hollow of a rotten stump, in the lap of an alder trunk; thence it was taken into rooms, into houses of pine, to be
handled by day in a stove of stone, to rest by night upon the hearth, in the receptacle for coals.
In a deep place fire was not born, in a rough place did not spring up; fire was born in the sky, on the Seven Stars' back, there fire was rocked, dear flame was swung in a 'golden' copse, on the top of a 'golden' knoll. 9. Kasi, the beautiful young girl, the fire-maiden of the sky, ’tis she that rocked the fire, swung to and fro the flame in the centre of the sky, above nine skies; the cords of silver shook, the golden hook gave a creak while the girl was rocking the fire, while swinging to and fro the flame. The red fire fell, one spark shot out from the golden copse, from the silver brake, from the ninth region of the air, from above the eighth firmament (F. lid), through the level sky, through the far-extending air, through the latch of the door, through the bed of a child; it burnt the knees of a little boy, it, burnt the mother's breast. To Mana went the child, the luckless boy to Tuonela, as he was destined to die, had been selected to expire in anguish caused by ruddy fire, in the torments of relentless fire; rotting he went to Manala (F. Mana), stumbling along—to Tuonela, to be abused by Tuoni's girls, by Mana's children to be addressed.
But to Mana the mother did not go; the old woman was clever and furious, knew how to fascinate the fire, to make it sink powerless down through a small needle's eye, through the hammer-end of an axe, through a heated borer's tube; into a ball she wound the fire, into a skein she made it up, made the ball spin quickly round along the headland of a field, through the earth, through the
soil, 53. pushed it into the river of Tuonela 54. into the depths of Manala.
9. Katrinatar, the lovely girl.
9. The saucy Katrina.
53. Into a still and tranquil lake.
54. Into the waves of Lake Alue (into the Lake of Haleva).
53. To the clear and open sea.
54. To the middle of Lake Kaleva.
The origin of fire is known, the genesis of fire (panu) is guessed: dear fire was created by God, by the Maker was dear flame made, it was born from Jesus’ word, from the gracious mouth of God, above nine skies, above nine heavens and a half. The Virgin Mary, mother dear, the holy little serving-maid, ’tis she that rocked the fire, that nursed the flame in a doorless room, entirely windowless; in birch-bark vessel she carried the fire, on a bit of birch-bark transported it to the point of a fiery cape. There they christened fire, who stood as godmother to fire, who stood as godfather to flame?
21, A maiden came from Pohjola, from the snowy fort, from the middle of an icy spring, 24, from an icy well's recess, that could bear with her hands to touch, and with her fingers to handle it. Juhannes, the best of priests, baptized the boy, the name of Fire (Panu) was given him, he was entitled darling Fire, to be used by day in the hollow of a golden hearth (F. ring), to be concealed at night, in an ashy tinder-bag.
21–24. A maiden came from the sky, a girl descended from the air.
Höyhenys of the Panutars [v. Laukahatars], Lemmes of the Lentohatars, carried a heavy womb for about nine months; when the time of delivery approached, the time for lightening the womb, into a lake she ran waist-deep, up to her girdle—in the waves; there she brought forth her child, there she gave birth to a boy. With her hands she could not bear to touch, nor to hold him in her grasp, from that they knew him to be fire, they were warned that he was Flame. Who rocked the fire? The luckless summer girl, ’twas she that rocked the Fire, that swung Flame to and fro, in a copper boat, in a copper skiff, in an iron tun [v. in the belly of a copper sheep], between iron hoops [v. in the bed of a golden lamb]; then she carried him to baptism, then hurried off to the christening.
Ilmarinen struck fire, Väinämöinen caused a flash, at the end of an iron bench, on the top of a golden form (5) with a living oracle, (6) with a burning snake of the earth; he struck fire on his nail, gave a crack on his finger-joints, without a steel (F. iron) he struck, without flint and tinder struck a light. The red fire flew suddenly, one spark dropt down from the top of Väinämöinen's knee, from under Ilmarinen's hands, to the ground below his feet. Then it rolled in its course, along long courtyards, along the headland of a field, to the clear open sea, to the illimitable waves; it burnt the storehouse of the perch, the stony
castle of the ruffs. Takaturma, Äijö's son, when he knew of the coming of fire, of the pouring down of flame, squeezed tightly in his hands the fire, compressed it into tinder-spunk, into birch-fungus gathered it. From that is the origin of fire, from that the genesis of flame, for these poor border lands, for the wretched countries of the north.
5–6. With a variegated snake, with a creeping 'worm' of the earth.
5–6. With three feathers of an eagle, with five wings.
He altogether lies, relates a wholly groundless fib, who imagines fire was struck by Väinämöinen; (5) fire came from the sky, (6) in the clouds was Panu formed, he is son of the sun, the beloved offspring of the sun, was made at the sky's mid-point, on the shoulder of Charles's Wain. There fire was kept in check, dear flame was restrained, near the sun, in a rift of the moon, in the middle of a golden [v. blue] ring, 1 under the mouth of the gracious God, under the beard of the Blessed One. From there dear fire has come, through ruddy clouds, from the heavens above, to the earth beneath; the heavens were rent in shreds, all the air into holes (F. windows), while fire was being brought to earth, while flame was being brought by force.
5-6. Fire came from the Creator's mouth, from the beard of the blessed God.
The smith Ilmarinen himself, the skillful hammerer, was walking on a tinkling road, along the liver-coloured ground; a variegated little stone, a bit of rock came in his way, the smith flung it into the fire, he placed it under his forge, blew the bellows for a day, for another day, blew the bellows for a third day too. Then Ilmarinen the smith stooped down to look at the under surface of the forge, at the bellows’ upper side, already the stone like water shook, the rock like copper poured. The smith snatched it out of the fire, the copper—from under the forge, the copper he began to mould, to make kettles noisily.
The girl of the Hiisis’, Hilahatar, Hiisi's old woman and Hiisi's mare, made water on a rock; on the rock the urine dried, into copper then it turned, it grew into copper ore, it poured like water from a hill, like copper from a smelting furnace.
Dear water's origin is known, and the genesis of dew: from the sky has water come, from the clouds—in little drops, then it arose in a hill, grew up in the crevice of a rock. Vesiviitta, Vaitta's son, Suoviitta, son of Kaleva, dug water from a rock, from a hill let water gush, with his golden stick, with his copper staff. When he let it gush from the hill, when he had brought it from the rock, the
water wavered like a spring, it ran in little rills, then it increased in size, as a river it began to flow, as a stream—to dash noisily, to thunder like a cataract (F. rapids) to the great sea, into the open sea below.
Vesiviitta, Väitö's son, the offspring of Sinervätär [v. Suoviitta, son of Kaleva], slept a while in a hill, grew for long in a rock, while bringing water forth, while carelessly preparing dew; the water spirted from the stone, the dew fell down from the rock to be the death of his family 1 by taking his father's head: rotting he went to Manala (F. Mana), in a stupid manner—to Tuonela; he died with [v. without] the glory of a dog, he fell with [v. without] the honour of a whelp.
Fire's genesis is from the sky, iron's origin—from iron ore (F. rust), dear water's origin—from clouds; water is eldest of the brothers, fire is youngest of the daughters, iron is the intermediate one. From the Jordan this water comes, from the river Jordan it was drawn, from a rushing stream, from a roaring cataract (F. rapids); with it was christened Christ, the Almighty was baptized.
Water is Vuolamoinen's son, the offspring of Vuolamotar, the washing water of Jesus, the tears of the Son of God; the Virgin Mary, mother dear, the holy little serving-maid brought it from the river Jordan, from an eddy of the holy stream.
Trusty old Väinämöinen, the soothsayer as old as time, by magic knowledge made a boat, by means of song prepared a skiff from the fragments of a single oak, from the breakage of a brittle tree; he cut the boat upon a hill, caused a loud clatter on a rock; he sang a song, he fixed the keel, he sang another, he joined a plank, immediately he sang a third while setting in its place the prow, while ending off a timber knee, while he was clinching end to end, while setting up the gunwale boards, while he was cutting at the tholes. A boat was ready for use that could bowl along with speed, both stiff when sailing with the wind, and safe when sailing against the wind.
By night they sowed the flax, they ploughed by the light of the moon, they cleansed, they heckled it, they plucked, they rippled it, they tugged it with energy, they teazled it with might and main. They carried away the flax to steep, they soon had it steeped, with speed they lifted it out, they dried it hastily; then they brought it into homes, they freed it soon of husks, with flax-brakes broke it noisily, they diligently swingled it, they combed it greedily, they brushed it in the hours of dusk, on a distaff it was promptly put, in a trice—upon a spinning-staff. Sisters spin it, sisters-in-law put it on a netting-needle, into a net the brothers net it, fathers-in-law fix lines to it. Then the netting-needle turned, the mesh-stick went and came before the net was made complete, the lines of yarn were fastened on, during a single summer night, between two days. The
net was ready for use, the lines of yarn were fastened on, ’twas a hundred fathoms wide, at the sides seven hundred fathoms long.
At night they sowed the flax, at night they heckled it, at night they rippled it, at night they steeped it in the water, at night they raised it from the water, at night they broke the flax in brakes, at night they span the threads, at night they wove the nets. The nets were ready for use, the nets were fitted with lines in a single summer night, in half another one besides; by brothers the nets were woven, by sisters were spun, were netted by sisters-in-law, by the father the lines were fastened on, he neatly fitted them with sinks, he properly attached the floats.
Tuoni's three-fingered girl, a three-toothed crone of the land of Lapps, span a hundred fathom net on a single summer night; a three-fingered old man of the land of Lapps was the weaver of the nets; the mesh-stick twisted in his hand, a knot was formed upon the net: he wove a hundred-fathom net, stitched one a thousand fathoms long in a single summer night, between two days.
From what did brandy originate, was the lovely drink produced? From this did brandy originate, was the lovely drink produced, from young barley beards, from the bristly heads of verdant corn, but without water it is not made (F. born), nor without a raging fire, the water gave liveliness, the fire has made it turbulent.
A boy from the field's profoundest depths started to make a salve; a fir-tree came in his way, he questioned it, he conversed with it—'Is there honey in thy boughs, a luscious juice beneath thy bark, as a salve for hurts, as embrocation for a sore?'
The fir-tree hastily replied—'There is no honey in my boughs, no luscious juice beneath my bark: in summer, thrice this wretched summertide a raven croaked on my branching head, a snake was lying at my root, past me the winds have blown, through me the sun has shone.'
He went his way, he strode along, on a trampled plain he found an oak, and inquired of this oak—'Is there honey in thy boughs, a luscious juice beneath thy bark, as a salve for hurts, as embrocation for a hurt?'
The oak made answer knowingly—'There is honey in my boughs, a luscious juice beneath my bark: on a previous day indeed a luscious juice dript down on my boughs, honey trickled on my branching head from the gently drizzling clouds, from the fleeting fleecy clouds, from my boughs—upon my twigs and in below the bark.'
He gathered branches of the oak, peeled off the bark of the oak, he gathered goodly herbs, plants of many sorts that in these parts are never seen, that do not grow in every place; on the fire he put a pot, caused the brew to boil, it was full of oaken bark, of many sorts of herbs. The pot crackled and boiled for three whole nights, three summer days, then he looked at the salve to see whether the salve was reliable, an efficacious remedy; the salve was not reliable, nor efficacious the remedy. He added herbs
besides, plants of many sorts, that were brought from other parts from a hundred stages back, from nine sorcerers, from eight divining-men. He boiled for three nights more, three summer days, he lifted the pot from the fire, he tried the salve, the salve was not reliable, not efficacious the remedy. So he put the pot on the fire to boil anew, it simmered three nights more, nine nights in all, he looked at the salve, he looked, he put it to the proof. There was a branchy aspen tree that grew on the edge of a field, the brutal fellow broke it through, completely shattered it in two, with the salve he anointed it, he tried the remedy, the aspen was made whole again, became better than before. Again he tried the salve, put to the proof the remedy, tried it on rifts in a stone, on the splinters of a flag, to the stones the stones already stick, to the flagstone the flags unite.
Johannes, priest of God, plucked herbs, by the thousand tore up plants that in these countries do not grow, in Lapland's wretched border lands, nor in luckless Bothnia where they do not know or see the growth of every herb. All summer he boiled salves, all winter concocted fats on the side of a speckled stone, on the flank of a bulky flag, nine fathoms in circumference, and seven fathoms wide; the salves are reliable, efficacious is the remedy with which I anoint the sick, I heal a person that is hurt.
A salve is made from every kind of thing by means of power decreed by the Father and Creator, by permission of
[paragraph continues] God: in the earth are many kind of herbs, in the earth are powerful plants which a helpless fellow takes, a destitute fellow plucks as ointments for the sick, as embrocation for a wound.
Where are salves prepared, sweet ointments rightly cooked, for application on a sore, as a remedy for hurts? There are the salves prepared, the sweet ointments rightly cooked, above nine skies, behind the stars of the sky, near the moon, in a rift in the sun, on the shoulder of Charles's Wain.
From there may an ointment trickle down, may a drop of luscious sweetness drip from under the mouth of gracious God, from under the beard of the Blessed One, that is a powerful salve for every kind of injury, for the fearful traces left by fire for places wholly burnt by fire (panu), for frost-bites caused by bitter frost, for places touched by cruel wind, to place on the grievous wounds of iron, on the injuries from steel, on the stabs of Piru's pike, on the marks of Keito's spear.
A 'blue-cloud' loomed, at a distance a bow was seen, from the south it came forth, towards the north-west opened up; a little girl was on the cloud, a woman (kapo) on the edge of the bow was smoothing her hair, was brushing her locks; she exposed to view her paps, allowed her breasts to overflow. From her paps the milk appeared, from her breasts it overflowed, the milk flowed down upon the ground, on a honey-dropping mead, on the headland of a honeyed field, salves are obtained from it, as ointments for sores, as embrocations for wounds.
A girl was born on a field run wild, a young maiden—on a grassy spot, without being carried she grew up, without being suckled she was reared; exhausted she sank down to sleep on a meadow without a name, lay down to sleep upon a knoll, on a honeyed-meadow fell fast asleep; she slept for long unwittingly; sleep deceived her, she expired. Between the furrows a herb grew up, it was a three-cornered herb, water was in it, honey too, in it was a splendid salve to rub upon a wound, to pour upon a hurt.
Vuotar, maker of salves, all summer concocted salves in delightful Metsola, on the edge of the steadfast hill. Delightful honey was there, strong water was there, from which she prepared a salve; may it now come here to hand as a salve for the wounds, as a liniment for sores.
An ox grew up in Karjala [v. Kainuhu], in Finland a bull grew fat, with its head it roared in Tavastland (Häme), it wagged its tail in Tornio; a swallow for a whole day flew from the withers to the end of the tail, a squirrel for a whole month ran between the horns of the ox, yet still it never reached the end, it never came indeed so far. They sought for a man to strike, made quest for a slaughterer; from the sea rose a swarthy man, from the wave a full-grown man uprose, a whole quarter of an ell in height, as tall as a woman's span; directly he saw his prey, he of a sudden broke its neck, brought down the bull upon its knees, made it fall sideways on the ground. Ointments
are obtained from it, charmed remedies are got from it with which one besprinkles sores, and heals the injuries.
Colic is a groaning boy, the second boy is an awkward lout, the third is like a bar [v. the third has a pole-like throat], he is not made of aught that's good, or of special worth; he is made of swamp, is made of earth, composed of sacking-needle points, wound up from women's spinning whorls, scratched up from heaps of twigs, from heather was broken off, from grass stript off, was collected from a rapid's foam, was poured from the froth of the sea, out of feathers was roughly botched, from the inward parts of Syöjätär, from under the liver of Mammotar.
Thou panting, moaning gripes, the stupid, awkward boy, the muddle-headed stay-at-home, full well I know thine origin, thou wast made from nothing good, from nothing good, from nothing bad: from hard timber wast thou heaped up, from tarry wood wast made, from aspen fungus thou wast formed, from birch agaric wast twisted out.
A thin Lapp boy made his way below the path, was travelling beneath the ground, on his shoulder—a bloody axe; he struck a man upon the heart, he cut him on the breast, then gripes was born, the groaner became morose.
308:1 In Finnish hylky, a pun on hylke—'a seal.'
309:1 The Voguls also say the bear was let down from the sky in a silver cradle (Munkácsi (1), p. 188).
311:1 Formed from putki, Angelica or bear-wort, a plant with a sweetish taste which bears are very fond of.
312:1 To understand this effusion it must be read with § 26 a.
313:1 v. The splendid woman Penitar, v. the little woman Peniatar.
316:1 He is here supposed to be testing a new sword forged for him by Ilmarinen, cf. Kal. xxxix. 93–110.
316:2 Or 'a tangled ball.'
317:1 Or 'a tangled ball.'
318:1 A stone where festivities and sports are held.
319:1 v. She combed her head; she brushed her hair; a hair disappeared from the brush; into the water fell the hair.
321:1 Or 'tangled ball.'
322:1 There are an immense number of variants, many of which I have given in Folk-Lore, vol. i. pp. 43-45 (1890), but they are hardly worth repeating.
332:1 An example of folk-etymology. Ale (olut, dim. olonen) is supposed to be derived from hyvä-oloinen 'of a good kind.'
342:1 A variant in the Old Kalevala makes this remark of the Sampo, (O. K. p. 314).
343:1 Or stooping—with reference to the action of sowing.
346:1 i.e. Who dashed and stormed about like wind and water, and with the velocity of a fish.
349:1 i.e. A human being as man also owed his origin to the Luonnotars.
355:1 Or 'a god.'
358:1 The context in Kalevala R. 45, shows that Ukko, the thunder god, is intended here.
367:1 A kind of fish, Corregonus albula.
367:2 A lizard.
371:1 i.e. into large, coarse grains of rock salt.
374:1 The text has tarha 'a garden, an enclosure,' but no doubt terho 'an acorn' should be substituted.
380:1 Or halo, or hearth.
382:1 Meaning by this—fire, which was regarded as the younger brother or sister of water.